All These Labels
by Tarafina
Summary: When Santana asked Rachel to distract Sam she had no idea what it would lead to. But it certainly surpassed her expectations and more. :EvanBerry:
1. Prologue

**Title**: All These Labels  
**Category**: Glee  
**Genre**: Humor/Romance  
**Ship**: Rachel/Sam  
**Rating**: Teen (could go up in future)  
**Warning(s)**: Spoilers for Sexy  
**Word Count**: 1,538  
**Summary**: When Santana asked Rachel to distract Sam she had no idea what it would lead to. But it certainly surpassed her expectations and more.

**_All These Labels_**  
-Novel-

**Prologue**.

"_Berry__!_"

Rachel cringed when the loud voice of none other than Santana Lopez basically _ordered _her to notice her. Sighing, she paused in her marching steps toward her locker. Turning, she raised a brow and cocked her head. "Yes, Santana? How may I help you?"

The Latina glanced briefly around the halls, dismissing what sparse amount of people were still there after hours with an easy sneer before she paused a few feet from her. "I need your help."

Brows furrowed, Rachel shook her head. "If you need a ride to the free clinic, I'm afraid it will have to wait. With Mrs. Pillsbury-Howell still working on her broken, loveless sham of a marriage, I have to call the Celibacy Club to order in…" She looked at her watch and nodded, "exactly thirteen minutes." She raised a brow. "I had expected you and Sam to be in attendance, though I do find your sudden commitment to chastity unrealistic and possibly some sort of slow build-up to a prank I'm sure I will neither warrant nor enjoy."

"_Whatever!_" Santana cried, eyes wide with irritation. "Is there like a _mute _button on you?"

She frowned back at her. "I believe you were asking for _help_…"

"Yeah… Look…" She sighed, her expression falling from bitchiness to discomfort. "I need you to, like, _distract _Sam."

Guard up, she raised her chin suspiciously. "Are you cheating on Sam? Because given his recent misfortunate in falling in love with Quinn only to have his heart shattered in a way I can certainly relate to, I don't think your actions will help his self-esteem any." She took a deep breath, shaking her head. "Perhaps I'm the only person who pays any heed, but regardless of how good someone looks they are still slaves to insecurities and high school is a cesspool that encourages self-doubt." Glaring up at her, she stepped forward and raised a finger into the girls' face. "Furthermore, I find it truly repulsive that you would hurt somebody as sweet and rather naïve as Sam with your blatant disregard for his feelings! So _no_, I will not help you _distract _Sam!"

"Two words, Berry… _Psych_. _Ward_," she enunciated, bowing her head to stare at the much shorter girl threateningly. "And I wasn't planning on cheating on him, _god!_" She scoffed. "I've just…" She shrugged. "Look, since everything went down with Brittany, I've been… _uncomfortable _being around boys… And Sam's so _touchy_." She twisted her face up in an expression of disgust. "Like, who wants man-paws all up in their jelly?"

Rachel's brows furrowed. "I'm not sure I know, or even _want _to know, what this _jelly _is you're referring to…" Ignoring Santana's rolling eyes, she continued, "And while I do sympathize with your plight to an extent, I'm confused as to why you would stay with Sam if you're so obviously struggling with your unrequited feelings for Brittany." She pursed her lips. "Honestly, it's a disservice to both you _and _Sam."

"To _me?"_ She cocked her head. "Whatchu _talkin'_ 'bout, Midget?"

Taking a deep breath, partly to help hide her exasperation, she replied, "Santana… The heart is a very fickle muscle. Sure it relies on blood, but it's also a metaphor that thrives on small touches and…" She smiled gently, wistfully, "Those _moments _between you and your loved one…" She shook her head of the sentimentalism. "Sam is not who you want to be with. I would venture a guess that there is no _boy _that makes your heart flutter quite like Brittany does and so… You're only hurting yourself by continuing the façade of dating him."

"_Riiight_…" She nodded. "Before you get all Lifetime soap on me, can you just do me this solid and get Sam up in your crazy?" She quirked a brow. "'Cause for some weird reason, all the boys come runnin' to your yard. I don't _know _what's in your milkshake, but I need you to drug Lady Lips up so he'll get out of my personal bubble. M'kay?" She puts her hands to her hips expectantly.

"If you want to break up with Sam, why don't you just…" She stared at her with wide eyes, "_Break up with him!_"

"Be-_cause_, breaking up with Sam makes it look like I'm just sitting around pining after Britt… _Him _breaking up with me and chasing after _you _just looks like a regular thing here in glee club." She rolled her eyes. "Face it, Berry. All the boys come callin' for you eventually. We're just speeding up the process," she scoffed.

Rachel gasped, affronted, and crossed her arms over her chest. "And just what, pray tell, makes you believe that I want to be with Sam?" She reminded, "If you haven't noticed, I would still be blissfully happy in a relationship with Finn if it weren't for you… And while I'm undergoing a no-boys policy at this time, I do have it in mind to one day regain the previous trust and love of Finn in future." She nodded staunchly. "So I believe getting together with Sam, as nice and sweet as he is, would only hinder the inevitable."

"Oh my _god_…" she groaned under her breath. "You know what? You should be _thanking _me!" She snapped her fingers in Rachel's face before the girl could argue with her. "No, _listen_, Tiny Dancer… _Finn_, like _all _boys, wanted up in this…" She motioned to her body cockily. "It's not surprising." She shook her head. "But _you_ seem to think that what he did was _okay_… And maybe I'm not Dr. Phil, but lying is not what love is based on. I may be _new _to it, but I know my shit, okay?" She snapped her head knowingly. "So whatever fantasy you built up in that Liza Minnelli stuffed head of yours, you're _wrong_. Finn was a _douche_. He banged me, dated you, lied, then broke up with your diva ass because you made a mistake." She snorted. "'Least you _fessed _up! And whatever anyway, he's a total hypocrite for hooking up with Quinn when she was dating Sam… Uh, double-standard much?"

Rachel's mouth gaped as she floundered for an answer. Her finger hung uselessly in the hair. "I… He… You…"

"Listen bitch," she said, in a somewhat fond tone, "You need to get over Finn. And Sam?" She smirked. "He will rock you sideways until you don't even remember who Finn _is_," she promised.

Her lips pursed. "If you've forgotten, I'm the president of the Celibacy Club."

Her brows furrowed. "I thought you were just standing in as leader…"

"Yes, well, I elected myself president and treasurer over the weekend… I felt it was a logical solution since the majority of the people currently in the club weren't trustworthy."

"Right…" She shook her head in a very _whatever _manner. "Anyway… You and Sam?" She stared at her expectantly. "Can you get him off my back or what?"

Wringing her hands, Rachel stared up at her unsure. "I really don't think I know the first thing in seducing Sam away from you… Are you sure there isn't somebody else you'd rather put in charge of this particular situation?"

"You think I want to re-explain this drama?" she scoffed. "Look, it's gotta be somebody in glee club or I'll be walking myself out of the closet and I'm not…" She shifted her feet. "I'm not sure I'm ready to tell the whole school, okay?"

She softened, reaching out to squeeze Santana's arm reassuringly. "Having lesbian based feelings is nothing to be ashamed of, Santana. You are who you are and the first step in knowing love is loving one's self." She nodded slowly.

Santana picked Rachel's fingers off her arm and tossed them away. "Can you stop trying to make me feel better and just get up in Sam's skinny, white business?"

Huffing, she put her hands on her hips. "As I've previously said, I'm really not sure how you've come to the conclusion that I'm the right person to encourage Sam's advances…"

"And like _I_ said, you've got some weird magnetism _thing _that all these Neanderthals fall for. So just…" She waved her hands. "Be your annoying self and let him walk right into your web of crazy."

"But… What about _Finn?_"

She groaned. "What _about _Finn? He's with Quinn and you and me know he's not going to just _walk away _from that. They'll be prom king and queen and make pretty, stupid babies and they'll live happily ever after in some suburb with kids who have rhyming names. Just… _Get over it already!_"

She pouted her lips but didn't argue. "_Fine!_ I'll see what I can do about gaining Sam's interest… I _won't _lead him on though!" She stuck her finger up in Santana's face pointedly. "I'll simply encourage a friendship and perhaps that will buy you the time needed to find a more suitable plan of escape from your sham of a relationship." Smoothing out her skirt, she turned on her heel. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a celibacy club to lead." She walked off with her chin lifted proudly and a peppy skip to her step.

"_Enana loca…_" Santana muttered after her.

And thus it began.

[**Next**: Part I.]

**Spanish to English**:

_Enana Loca– Crazy Midget_


	2. Chapter I

**Title**: All These Labels  
**Category**: Glee  
**Genre**: Humor/Romance  
**Ship**: Rachel/Sam  
**Rating**: Teen (subject to change)  
**Warning(s)**: Spoilers for Sexy and the promo to Original Song  
**Word Count**: 5,726  
**Summary**: When Santana asks Rachel to distract Sam she had no idea what it would lead to. But it certainly surpassed her expectations and more.

**Previous**: Prologue,

**_All These Labels_**  
-Novel-

**I. **

Rachel snapped the gavel down, smiling widely as the meeting was officially brought to order. "Welcome all!" she greeted, standing before them with her hands now clasped together. "Since Mrs. Pillsbury-Howell is still…" How to put her dissolving marriage in an appropriate light? "_distracted_, I've taken it upon myself to continue leading each meeting." She looked from each person's indifferent face and then took another deep breath. "If anybody would like to share?"

"Uh, yeah, so what if your man's suddenly lost his balls to do anything and you kind of respect that but also want to punch him in his smug face?" Lauren asked bluntly, quirking her head.

Rachel blinked back at her before slowly sitting down, trying to work out the question at hand. "If you could perhaps explain that a little more… coherently…?"

Sighing loudly, Lauren sat back in her chair and began putting her whole relationship with Puck out there, from the sex tape they didn't end up making to Puck trying to do the opposite of everything that got him into trouble. Rachel stopped paying attention because she happened to know all of that, she just needed somebody to fill the silence while she worked out her amazing plan, henceforth called _Save Santana From Her Fear of Labels and Intimacy By Distracting Sam Evans With Your Natural Guile_; she labeled it SSFHFoLaIBDSEWYNG on the top of each following page in her notebook.

She began by listing in bullet form what she did to gain Finn's interest, from showing him how they were musically compatible, staring longingly in his direction until he noticed, to her outright single-minded desperation for them to explore their obvious chemistry. Luring him to the stage where she kept a bed of pillows and being open to the idea of kissing definitely helped as well. The problem here was that she hadn't planned to woo Sam, not in the way she had Finn. And she knew from personal experience that investing herself as much as she had in Finn Hudson had backfired dramatically, and often.

She listed on her second page what she knew of Sam's after-school activities or what his hobbies might be so she could look them up and possibly find herself liking them to. Given they hardly spoke, the list was small:

**Gle****e** – she doodled stars all around it and underlined it three times

**Football/Athletics** – while she wasn't a large fan of sports, mostly because of the violence encouraged, she did understand that like many males, Sam enjoyed the pastime and thus she knew she should probably brush up on the basics of the game

**Avatar **– she thought a footnote was in order as she personally wanted to audition for Avatar on Ice and thought it could be a great conversation piece

**Comic Books** – though she'd never read any, she did wonder if perhaps the local library might have some on hand for her to research

**Dyslexia **– while it obviously wasn't something he _enjoyed_, it was an inherent part of his life and thus she decided it was pertinent that she look it up

**Justin Beiber** – though she wasn't sure if he actually _liked _Bieber or if perhaps his music had simply spoken to him at the time, she thought it was worth listing and possibly adding a specific playlist so she could better connect to the teen superstar's lyrical genius

Given what she had to work with, her only plan of action was to either dress as one of his comic book idols or to somehow rope the Drama department into helping her create Na'vi makeup… She briefly wondered how they might create the tail, especially as she considered authenticity to be an important part of the process. She was fairly sure the blue would set off her hair but given it was March and Halloween was some time away, she wasn't sure what situation might warrant her costume. Somehow showing up to his residence in full Na'vi gear and feigning that she had just been in the neighborhood didn't sound very convincing to her…

Twirling her pen about, she glanced away from Lauren's gesticulations as she showed them what she'd like to do by apparently punching Noah's face numerous times and then unscrewing his head from his body and playing what she assumed was volleyball or some other sport with it, and focused her gaze on the lone boy at the other end of the room. He sat directly across from Rachel, with the seat next to him vacant where Santana was meant to be sitting. His brows were furrowed and his full pink lips were pursed as he watched Lauren, disturbed and yet unable to look away from her violent tendencies. He really was quite handsome, she had to admit. Although she wasn't a fan of the Bieber knock-off hair, it rather suited his face. When he eventually got bored with Lauren's long rant, he began playing with the ends of his bangs, going cross-eyed to stare at them. Eyes that were a stunningly nice shade of green.

She twirled her own hair around her finger, wondering how it was she found herself in this position. Sam was a fellow gleek and so she knew him perhaps better than the majority of the other students at McKinley, but they'd hardly exchanged more than a handful of words. It wouldn't be easy deterring him from Santana and drawing his attention toward her. He didn't have many friends though, she surmised. She might be able to use that to her advantage. She was hoping to avoid any romantic tension and just absorb him in a very distracting friendship, only for as long as it might take Santana to gather the courage to break up with him or come up with another way to convince the student body she was indeed not pining after Brittany, even if that was exactly what she was doing.

Personally, Rachel thought she should be proud of her sexual orientation, but she also understood that people as a whole were not always accepting. Ignorance ran deep. David Karofsky was a prime example of that. So she assured herself that what she was doing was not somehow helping Santana suppress her natural feelings, just giving her more time to come to grips with them.

"Excuse me? Should you be _dating _Puck if all you want to do is break his face?" Quinn wondered, staring at Lauren with a raised brow of superiority.

"_Excuse me_, Stick-Barbie?" Lauren growled.

"While I hate to agree with her, I do believe Quinn brings up a valid point," Rachel intervened, before blood could be shed. "Perhaps a debate is needed. Quinn, you have the floor!" she told her, waving her hand.

"What? _No_," she scoffed. "I just think it's ridiculous that she seems to think their relationship can work when all she seems to want to do is take him apart piece by piece." She shrugged. "I know the feeling, but I also think it's unhealthy in a relationship…"

"Oh, 'cause you're so great at relationships?" Puck argued, glaring.

Rachel smiled, partly because this would go on for awhile and thus she could continue on her mental scheming, and partly because she rather liked it when somebody brought up Quinn's shortcomings. So what if that was petty of her; she happened to be the prime target for most everyone's barbs and she would just like some equal opportunity mudslinging, that was all.

Since she was brought up, however, Rachel did have to take Quinn into consideration. Yes, she hurt Sam and her actions put a very noticeable wrench in Rachel's plans to get Finn back, but there was also something to be learned from her. She did, after all, once gain Sam's interest. Though it was romantically, Rachel could only surmise that it would still help. Obviously, she could see the physical appeal of Quinn, but to Rachel her spotty personality outweighed what attractive features she might have. Then again, she could admit she may be bias. Still, Sam had seen something in her, or perhaps _wanted _to see something in her, or more likely Quinn let him see one side of her, a much more kind and sweet side, while hiding the hideous cruelty behind a well kept mask. She smiled. That made sense to her.

So perhaps she had to focus on that, on the sweet, gentle side Sam must have seen in her to gain his interest. Perhaps if saw that in her, even a little bit, it would gain some attention and then she could mold whatever came of it into a short-term friendship. She wasn't so naïve as to believe she could keep him trained on her for long. While Santana may have raised a point that she did garner some attention from the glee boys, though only two really came to mind, it was obvious from her position at the moment that their affections did not last. In fact, both of them eventually went back to Quinn. Though Noah had only been a brief boyfriend of hers, lasting a week where for the most part they did little more than make-out, she did still consider him a friend now, and their break-up was more from feelings toward others than anything else. The common denominator was always Quinn, however; whether indirectly or not, she eventually regained each boy she'd once sought and who eventually turned back to her. So Rachel could only assume that even if she and Sam did engage in a friendship, Quinn would eventually blip back onto his radar and take him away. If not, then status would get between them and he would realize that spending time with a pariah such as herself was not good for his health or social life.

She resolved not to be hurt when that happened.

"Okay ladies, why don't we just kiss and make-up and let this go?" Noah suggested, smirking suggestively between Quinn and Lauren who were both heaving and leaned across their desks, glaring darkly.

Quinn rolled her eyes, seemingly gathering herself and taking a seat once more while Lauren smacked him upside the head and sat down too. "This is stupid," she muttered.

Rachel smiled, mostly to ignore the rude statement, and then looked at Sam. "Would you like to add anything to the current discussion, Sam?" she wondered.

"Uh…" Nervous and caught off guard, he looked around at everyone gathered and then half-smiled. "No?"

"That helped," Noah scoffed.

"Noah, _please_," she sighed. "This is an open forum where we are encouraged to be honest. Ridiculing one another is not going to help." She nodded back to Sam. "If you don't feel like you have any opinion on the matter, that's fine, Sam. Although I would encourage you to try and participate in future."

"What are you even _doing _here?" Quinn wondered of him. "Santana's the easiest girl in the school… What's the point in even dating her if you're not—"

Rachel banged her gavel to interrupt. "I really think their relationship is none of your business, Quinn. And I also think that your opinion on Santana, who is not present at the moment, is unwarranted." She stared at her. "If we could stay on _topic_…"

"Are you serious?" she muttered under her breath. "You've spent the last two meetings grilling me about Finn and now you want to tell me it's _rude?_"

"As you said yourself, it's none of _my _business. Thus, what Sam and Santana do or do not do is none of _yours_…"

Quinn's brows furrowed suspiciously. "Why _haven't _you asked about Finn? We've been here almost an hour and you haven't brought him up _once_… What's your game?"

Ignoring her, she turned back to the collected group. "Did anybody else want to share with the group or have we reached our intended peak of interest in today's point of conversation?" she wondered.

"I'm good," Lauren sighed. "I think I just wanna beat on Puckerman 'cause I'm hungry… And this meeting's taking forever to end." She turned to Puck. "Double Big Mac's?"

"Sweet," he agreed.

Seeing that they were leaving, Rachel nodded and snapped the gavel down, smiling dismissively as the others all jumped, glaring at her. "I now dismiss you all… Thank you for participating and on a farewell note…" She raised her hands as if to encourage them all to say it with her, but it seemed only Sam mumbled along, "_Abstinence is key!_" She frowned at them before adding, "Please remember to add to the club money jar so we can afford refreshments." She wiggled it at them, grinning widely. "So far we have five dollars in counting, group!"

As Puck, Lauren and Quinn all left, none of them stopping to drop even a _dime_ in the jar, Rachel's smile dimmed at their lack of enthusiasm before she packed up her books and began putting them away in her trolley bag. It wasn't until a few coins rattled that her concentration was broken and she looked up to see Sam smiling back at her hesitantly. "_Sam!_" she greeted, glancing past him. This was not in her plan, not that she'd really had any time to _make _one. But she had been certain he wouldn't approach her and going off script was not helping. She floundered for a conversation piece before finally saying, "I noticed Santana did not attend today…"

"Yeah, uh…" His brows knotted. "She said to come but then she didn't show…" He shrugged, smiling sheepishly. "Girls, right?"

She chuckled. "Seeing as I'm one of their kind, I'm not sure I should agree."

"Oh, yeah, I-I knew that…" He shuffled his hands into his pockets. "So like, what kind of refreshments are gonna be at the next meeting?" he wondered, eyes narrowing. "'Cause I'm on a pretty tight diet—"

"Really?" She peered at him. "Is it demanded of football players?" Her lips thinned. "Because Noah and Finn seem to eat quite a bit that I would never associate with any healthy dietary plan… And you're in peak physical shape, so I can't imagine it was required by a physician…"

"Oh, uh, no, not really… I just… I like to stay in shape, so…"

"Goal accomplished," she told him brightly. "Even Noah and his magnificent 'guns,'" She added the finger-quotes for his benefit, "seem to pale in comparison."

He grinned. "You think?"

She nodded. "Certainly."

"Cool."

Reaching for the jar, she placed the lid on top and spun it tightly. "As for refreshments, I imagine I'll get a variety of both sweet and healthy snacks. A vegetable plate, I think." She grinned. "With vegan dip. They'll never notice the difference."

He nodded. "So for the sweet stuff, is that like donuts or something? My mom used to go these meetings and they had coffee and donuts sometimes."

"Really? What kind of meetings were those?" she wondered.

"The anonymous kind," he admitted, shrugging.

"Oh." Realizing, she nodded. "I understand."

He half-smiled. "It's not really important anymore… I mean, she died a few years back, or that's what my gram told me anyway." He quirked his head. "Last time I saw her I was pretty young and she was a big drinker then, so…" He pursed his lips. "But whatever, I mean, my gram's really nice. She doesn't drink anything but tea… Like _ever_."

"Any tea in particular?" she wondered. "I'm partial to Earl Grey."

He grinned. "Dunno… I don't really like tea. It's kinda… watery."

She laughed under her breath. "That is one of the main ingredients." Tugging on the handle of her trolley bag, she started walking, nodding her head for him to follow her out of the classroom. "I hope Santana wasn't your ride…" She flicked off the lights and locked the door as they stepped out into the hallway. "I don't want you to think I'm insulting her, but I highly doubt she'll be returning to drive you home."

"Oh, yeah, no, you're probably right…" He readjusted his backpack straps. "I think there's a bus that goes by my place anyway, so I can just catch that."

Rachel looked up at him, considering her options. They were already engaged in conversation and while she hadn't yet figured out how she was going to keep his attention on her, turning him away now could botch up the whole thing. But she didn't have time to rehearse anything either and she'd hoped to do a little more research on him and his hobbies so she might be able to encourage outings they would mutually enjoy. Still, it was in her nature to take every opportunity that arose, so she told him, "No, that would be silly. Why don't I just drive you home myself?" Not bothering to hear his excuses, she started toward the door. "I imagine you're not far out of my way and it would only be the polite thing to do, one gleek to another."

He grinned lopsidedly. "Thanks Rachel."

"Of course." She nodded. "I would expect the same kindness in return." Actually, she wouldn't, but her dads always told her she should expect the best of people rather than fear the worst.

"Sure, if I ever get a car, I'll totally drive you around." He smiled at her brightly. "Maybe you could show me around Lima… I mean, I know a few places, like BreadstiX and the sev-elev, but me and Quinn mostly just hung out at her place and Santana was all bout 'Stix."

"Oh…" She quirked her head, a plan forming. "I'd love to show you around. If you haven't been to the theatre yet, we should go on a Tuesday, the rates are half-price. Or a weekend matinee!" she encouraged, eyes widening happily. "I'll have to rearrange my dancing schedule, but depending on what movies are playing, I'm sure it will be worth it." She pressed the button on her keychain to unlock and start her car from afar. "Do you like miniature golf? Because we have a wonderful course that's based off all Disney movies!" She beamed up at him. "Oh, it's fantastic! There's Cinderella's pumpkin carriage and Sleeping Beauty's spinning wheel! It's just _magical!_"

"Wicked," he agreed, nodding. "I haven't played since I was a kid, so that's cool."

"Oh yes!" Her head bobbed quickly. "And then perhaps I'll show you the bowling alley. I must admit," She raised her hands apologetically; "I'm not very good. I only played for the first time last year, thanks to Finn and his shock that I hadn't partaken in an American pastime. But it's very fun, even if I happen to think wearing shoes previously occupied by various unknown people is _completely _unhygienic."

He chuckled at her enthusiasm. "Sounds like we've got a pretty packed day ahead of us."

"You're right!" She tapped her chin, hoping she looked thoughtful rather than smug at her devious plan making. "It may take the whole weekend… In fact, we may have to spread it out over a _couple_ weekends." She shook her head, waving her hands. "I never realized just how much Lima had to offer until this moment. I'll have to show you everything. Like the park!" She lit up. "We can sit in the swings and eat ice cream! I know this fantastic soy ice cream place that I guarantee you will just _love!_" Her forehead wrinkled. "We'll have to wait until after Regionals, of course, because dairy isn't very good for your vocal chords."

He frowned. "It isn't?"

"Oh no!" She shook her head adamantly. "It coats them you see. And it actually causes a lot of phlegm." She stroked her throat in explanation. Rachel walked around to the trunk of her Prius and placed her bag inside before closing it firmly and making her way back to the driver's side door. She motioned for him to climb in before doing so herself. Carefully checking her mirrors, plugging in her seatbelt and readjusting her seat, despite the fact that it was exactly where she'd left it, she wrapped her hands around the steering wheel and then looked over at him. "If you'd like, you can choose the radio station. Otherwise, there are a collection of mixed CD's in the visor." She nodded her chin up to direct him before putting the car into drive. "Daddy got me GPS last year, so if you'll just put in your address, we'll be off and rolling!"

He reached over to type it in and then started looking through her CDs. "There's a lot of musical stuff in here… RENT, Phantom of the Opera… Do you have any more current stuff?"

She smiled teasingly at him, "I don't own Justin Bieber's record, if that's what you're hoping for?"

"No…" He frowned. "I've kinda lost some love for the Biebs since me and Quinn broke up…"

Though she wanted to reach out and pat his hand, she was unwilling to take them off the steering wheel and possibly ruin her perfect driving record. "I'm very sorry about all that happened, Sam… I can only assume that if things with Finn and I had continued on their path, he wouldn't have become interested in Quinn once more and broken up your relationship."

He smiled sadly. "Yeah, I dunno… I mean, it hurts, but… She did it, right? Like, she couldn't have loved me too much if she could just kiss him, right?"

Her brows furrowed. "I don't know… I… I kissed Noah while Finn and I were having troubles and I _thought _I really loved him… It's recently come to my attention, in a loud and not all sympathetic manner, that perhaps Finn wasn't the best boyfriend I'd made him out to be… It just confuses me… That he could be so _angry _with me for my actions after he did what he did with Santana and then to _you!_" She shook her head. "Regardless of whether they wanted someone else, I don't believe we deserved to be treated the way we were," she told him firmly, eyes flashing.

"I don't think Finn really wanted Santana, Rach… I think it was just like… _easy_, you know?"

"Well, you wouldn't be the first person to imply Santana was _easy_…" She pursed her lips. "I believe I told her she'd be working a pole not far into the future."

He laughed. "Yeah… I remember."

She glanced at him, smiling. "It wasn't one of my finer moments."

"Funny though."

"Yes," she sighed agreeably.

The mechanical voice of her GPS told her to turn at the next left and Rachel glanced up to see which neighborhood he resided in. Her brows furrowed. "Is this… Do you live on Maple?"

"Just off of it."

"Oh…" She grinned. "You're only a couple blocks from me." She looked past his shoulder. "I'm on Frasier. Twenty-four-seventy-two, to be exact."

"I hope you don't tell just anybody that."

She scoffed. "Because crime in Lima is terribly high."

"Maybe not, but not everybody's trustworthy," he worried.

She looked over at his earnest expression and melted a little. "Thank you for your concern, Sam. But most of the people I would have to worry about already _know _my address… I believe our house has been getting egged and TP'd since I was _ten_…" She shook her head. "And I would bet my last Liza CD that it was your fellow jocks doing the pranking."

He frowned. "They're kinda jerks, huh."

"Yes…" she sighed. "But then, ignorance is bliss."

He half-smiled, but stared down thoughtfully.

Rachel slowed as they reached his house and sat forward in her seat. "The lights are on. I assume your grandmother is home to greet you." She quirked a brow as she came to a stop in the driveway. "Does she know you attend Celibacy Club?"

He flushed. "Uh, no… It's not really something I want a whole lot of people knowing."

No longer worried about her perfect driving record, she reached out to touch his arm. "I know at our age it doesn't seem like something to be proud of and I fully admit that it's likely we'll engage in sex at some point before high school is out, but I like to think that our commitment to the club has more to do with honoring ourselves… Like we've taken a pledge to understand that sex is important and that we shouldn't be doing it willy-nilly with just anybody."

He stared at her. "Did you just say you and me are gonna have sex?"

She blinked, brows furrowed as she thought back. Blushing brightly, she struggled to reply, "I-I meant in general, not… not with each other…"

He laughed. "You say so…"

She clucked her tongue. "Very funny, Sam."

"Hey, sex is serious business, Rachel," he teased. "I can't just get all _willy-nilly_ with you or whatever."

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. "Ha, ha."

"In fact, I might have to report you for trying to seduce me… It's gonna look _pretty _bad that the leader of our little chastity group was hitting on me." He sighed faux-mournfully. "What will your dads say?"

She scoffed. "Yes, you're terribly hilarious…" She waved her fingers in a shooing manner. "Now get out of my car before my urges to bed you become inexplicably hard to control."

He chuckled thickly. "All right, I'm going." Pushing the door open, he climbed out, but leaned back in to see her, his blonde hair falling softly in his eyes. "Hey Rach?"

"Yes Sam?" she wondered, placing her hands at ten and two once more.

"I know…" He glanced away sheepishly. "I know Santana just wanted you to distract me 'cause she's having like an identity crisis and she's pretty sure she's into girls, but…" He grinned. "I think it'd be really cool if we did hang out, y'know?" He shrugged. "We can wear really unhygienic shoes and putt balls into some Disney character's giant mouth and eat popcorn until we burst and just… just be teenagers, right? No drama. No lies. No—No Finn or Quinn or Santana. Just… me and you."

Rachel stared back at him, gaping in shock. "You… You _knew _this whole time?"

"I was just around the corner… I heard Santana call your name and I thought—" He rubbed the back of his neck. "She's always pretty mean to you, so I thought I'd stick around and if she got out of control then I'd, I dunno, step in, get her off your back…" He frowned. "Wasn't what I expected though… I get it. I mean, you can't like _choose _who you love… If I could, I think I'd have picked better than Quinn when I first got here…" He smiled. "Who knows, maybe you and I could've gotten away from them before they hurt us…"

Rachel blinked quickly, surprised by his kind words. "I… Sam, I hope you don't think that I was spending time with you only because of Santana's request… I mean, _yes_, she did encourage the act itself but I honestly had no idea that we would bond so easily and… At first, I really thought maybe I was doing you _both _a favor… She needs to evaluate her feelings and who she wants to be, with or without labels… And you were kind of stuck with her, partly because she was unwilling to let go of her big gay beard and you because you were so hurt by Quinn and you just wanted to be wanted…" She shook her head. "But those things you said, that you want, I… I'd really like for them to happen. I'd like for us to explore a friendship together and I would be more than happy to just be a teenager by your side, with no ties and especially no lies or secrets… Perhaps you knowing this is a blessing in disguise because I wouldn't want us to be hindered by my guilt over how it had all begun…"

"It's cool…" He grinned softly. "So we'll get together this weekend then? Maybe see a movie or mini-golf?"

She beamed at him. "I would love that."

"Okay… And…" He shrugged. "I'll call Santana, tell her we shouldn't see each other anymore…" He raised a brow. "She'll probably spread it around that I'm interested in you and that's why though, so maybe you should be prepared."

Rachel quirked her head. "You know, since Santana asked for my help I think it would only be appropriate that I do so to the best of my abilities." She smirked widely. "Don't call her tonight… We'll give the school a show so her accusations have more weight and when you do break-up, it'll help her out." Her brows furrowed. "If that's okay with you, of course."

He nodded. "Sure… I know what it's like to be afraid of what people will think about the real you… I'm just a comic book nerd who loves Avatar and singing but I wanted to be accepted and I did what I had to for that to happen."

"Sam…" She sighed. "You do realize that spending time with me in public will likely hinder your social life dramatically."

"Rach… Glee club kind of already does that… Hanging out with you is gonna be the upside to all this."

She smiled. "That's very sweet of you to say."

"It's the truth." He nodded his head toward the house. "But my grams' is looking out the window… She probably thinks this is drug-deal or something; she watches a lot of TV…"

Rachel laughed. "Okay… Well, I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Yeah… For that show." He winked at her. "Try to control those impulses, hey?"

She rolled her eyes, waving at him as he closed the door and then jogged toward his house, waving at his grandmother, who peered back at Rachel from suspicious eyes. The pink rollers in her hair made her far less serious than she probably wanted. Honking once in farewell, she pulled out of the driveway and back onto the road, headed for home. She didn't realize how large her smile was until her cheeks began to hurt. The few short blocks went by in a swift blur; she rather thought it'd be nice living so close to somebody could stand her, especially when all of her neighbors didn't.

Parking beside her dad's silver Lexus, she grabbed her trolley bag and locked her Prius before skipping toward her house, already close enough to hear the hockey game her dad and daddy had probably TiVo'd. She hurried past them and upstairs before they could drag her into the living room to discuss goals or nets or whatever it was called.

Shedding her flats and her jacket, she walked toward her computer to check her emails. Dinner would likely be ready soon and she was already going over her mental list of songs to sing for her MySpace videos. Her phone buzzed nearby and she reached for it, flipping it open and smiling when she received a text from Sam: _Excited 4 2moro! ;) _

She grinned, texting back: _So am I. I think the school will be very surprised by our sudden show of unity._

As she drew up her emails, she found Santana had written her a short question: _So?_ She wrote back to tell her it would all be taken care of soon, though she gave no details as to how, and then stared impatiently at her phone, willing it to buzz. When it did, she cheered loudly and then apologized to her empty room for her enthusiasm.

_So we just winging it or do u got a plan?_ he texted.

She smiled, tapping her chin thoughtfully. _I will have a plan when the time comes… You will just have to follow my lead. Unless you have a better idea? I'm open to options._

Since Kurt and Mercedes were really the only two to text her on a fairly regular basis, she was unnaturally excited to have somebody else writing her. She tended not to like shorthand and would possibly bring that up to him later, but she knew from Kurt and Mercedes that she should probably just leave that issue alone. Both of them told her, often, that they didn't need her criticizing their spelling or vernacular. While she made it a point to use perfect English each time, perhaps it was just one of those compromises she would have to make that she allow others to do as they pleased.

_lol no. I'll just go with what you want._

Nodding, she texted in return: _Good. By tomorrow afternoon, you will be a free agent, Sam Evans. And Santana will keep her reputation_. She frowned, knowing she would be considered a home-wrecker, again.

_Its cool u know? u helping her like this_.

Her ire softened. Despite the fact that she was basically encouraging the school that already hated her to think of her as a boyfriend stealer once more, she knew it was to help both Santana and Sam. And the upside to it all was that she and Sam had gained a friendship, and perhaps if she were willing, Santana too might see that Rachel was a good person behind the diva-tude.

Her dads called out for her to come down for dinner and so she quickly replied, _We'll see tomorrow if it pays off. Dinner is ready though, so I have to go. See you tomorrow! =D_

She chewed her lip and waited, even as her feet itched to reply to her dads' insistent calling of her name. Finally, his reply came through.

_It will. ur the best actress I know. c u 2moro rach! :)))_

She grinned, hopping up out of her chair and closing her phone. She fairly skipped all the way downstairs for dinner, announcing as soon as she saw her dads, "I have a new friend!"

They smiled at her enthusiasm. "Tell us all about them!"

So she did, with wild gesticulations and rambling prose. It was the happiest she'd been in some time. And she thought that might just validate Santana's claims of Finn's poor boyfriend suitability. Shaking it off, she decided to focus on the present; her and Sam and their budding friendship. It was a very good day. And to think, it all happened because of Santana Lopez. She never would have guessed.

[**Next**: Part II.]


	3. Chapter II

**Title**: All These Labels  
**Category**: Glee  
**Genre**: Humor/Romance  
**Ship**: Rachel/Sam  
**Rating**: Teen (subject to change)  
**Warning(s)**: Spoilers for Sexy and the promo to Original Song  
**Word Count**: 5,162  
**Summary**: When Santana asks Rachel to distract Sam she had no idea what it would lead to. But it certainly surpassed her expectations and more.

**_All These Labels_**  
-Novel-

**II. **

Sam grunted as he finished the last of a hundred sit-ups. Sweat dotted his skin and clung to his hair. The sweet smell of breakfast cooking downstairs wafted up and made his stomach grumble. Flipping the end of his shirt up, he wiped down his face and stood. He still had to shower, eat, and hopefully catch the bus to school. Quinn had been driving him before and then Santana had started giving him a ride when they got together, but he had a feeling she wasn't going to show; probably a step of hers in trying to get him to like Rachel more than her. Stripping his grey shirt off, he tossed it toward his laundry basket and paused momentarily to look in the mirror. He frowned at what he saw; he knew he was pretty ripped, even Rachel said so, but sometimes he just felt like the mirror was lying, like people were just saying it to make him feel better. Sighing, he walked off to the bathroom and jumped in for a shower, turning the water up as hot as it would go. With the steam rising all around, he belted out a random song into his bottle of body-wash and grinned happily at what he hoped was going to go down that day.

He and Santana hadn't been together long and he wasn't really _attached _to her; it was nice to have somebody by his side since the whole Quinn and Finn thing though. But he got it, he really did. Santana liked boys, just not as much as girls, or maybe just not as much as Brittany. He couldn't like _make _her like him and he knew she was only really with him in the beginning for status and to get back at Quinn. He didn't really mind 'cause he was upset and popularity was all he really had left. But now… Now he had Rachel. Not like… in a romantic way. He frowned. Not that it would be bad or anything. Except she was still into Finn and he… couldn't get into another relationship with somebody who wanted Finn more than him. It was okay though, because Rachel only wanted friendship too. And to help out Santana by making it look like he was leaving her for Rachel, so that was cool. He didn't know what exactly was going to be in store for them since Rachel was keeping pretty tight-lipped about it, but he knew she'd make sure it all worked out and he trusted her.

When he stepped out of the shower, dripping all over the floor, he swiped his long bangs back and wiped the fogged mirror. His lips stretched back as he checked out his teeth; he was always getting bugged about how big his mouth was and so it made him kind of self-conscious about his teeth always being on display. So he brushed, flossed and gargled some mouthwash before digging out his pit-stick and Axe spray. When he walked into his room, his towel slung low on his hips, he was still humming under his breath. Finding a pair of jeans and a shirt, he danced a little to the beat he was making and wondered if Rachel was up yet. He kind of remembered her mentioning something about a 'vigorous early morning regiment' that involved an elliptical and then got distracted by the idea of her in a leotard and those tights she really liked, sweat glistening on tanned skin. He only had one leg in his pants as he stared off into space a long minute before finally shaking his head and focusing.

He was walking downstairs, taking them two at a time, when his cell buzzed in his pocket. Pulling it out, he found two missed texts, one from Santana and the other from Rachel.

_Find a different ride,_ said one, no doubt who it was from, while the other read, _Since you're in my neighborhood, I thought I'd offer my driving services. It will probably help our current plight anyway. –Rachel Berry*_

He grinned and then wondered why he thought her putting a star thing at the end of her name was like _cute_… He typed back _Ok_ to Santana and then wrote Rachel to say he'd appreciate the ride.

"Hey grams," he said, smiling at her as he walked into the kitchen.

"You look happy…" She narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you high?"

He laughed. "It's like eight in the morning."

"Druggies don't follow a schedule, Sammy," she sighed, staring at him. "You were like this last night too… Who was that _girl_ you were with?"

"Rachel." His smile widened. "She's picking me up this morning and _no_, she's not a druggie either."

She scoffed like she didn't believe him and then served him a plate of scrambled eggs, toast and bacon. "I want that plate _empty _before you go!" she warned. "You're too _skinny!_"

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly and then dug in. He was in too good a mood to start thinking about calories or how bad the carbs in bread were for him. Instead, he kept glancing out through the living room window to see if Rachel had arrived yet.

"You're acting weird… _Jittery_… Are you _sure _you aren't taking drugs?"

"Gram…" he sighed, laughing under his breath. "I'm just happy, okay?"

"Fine…" She pursed her lips. "You didn't see me acting like this over one silly boy when _I_ was your age."

His brows furrowed. "It's not like that. Me and Rachel are just friends… She's…" He shrugged, 'cause there was no way he was explaining the whole crazy story to his grandma. "She's in glee club too."

"Uh-huh," she dismissed. "You don't stare out windows like a lost puppy over a girl you don't _like_…" She shook her head. "And after that last one broke your heart too… I thought you were dating that Hispanic girl, what was her name? It was weird and it started with an S!"

"Santana," he supplied, nodding. "Yeah, we still kinda are… I don't think it's gonna last though."

"Because of this Rachel girl?" she asked, eyes narrowed.

"Sort've, but not… Not like how you think." He sighed, gulping down his glass of orange juice before he hopped up and kissed her wrinkled cheek. "Grams, don't worry so much. I'm not on drugs, I'm not cheating on my girlfriend and I'm not crushing on Rachel…" He walked his plate to the sink. "I'm just having a good morning, I'm getting a ride from my new friend and I'm feeling a lot better since the whole Quinn thing. So… Be happy for me, okay?"

She smiled slowly. "Okay… I trust you, Sammy, you know that, don't you?"

"Yeah, grams, I know…" he sighed. "I'm not mom though, okay? I'm not an addict… I'm just a teenager." He grinned boyishly before he heard a horn honking. "That's her!" He grabbed his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. "I'll be home late, I've got glee, okay?"

"Drive carefully!" she worried.

He chuckled. "She will!" Jogging out the front door, he swung it closed behind him and then waved at Rachel, who sat smiling behind the wheel. She waved cheerfully. Circling her car, he climbed in and tossed his backpack in the backseat. Running his fingers through his hair out of nervous habit, he said, "Hey…"

"Hi!" she chirped, before glancing back at his house. "Does your grandmother always glare at visitors like that? I can't imagine it's very inviting to your neighbors…"

He leaned over to see better and shook his head as his grams' quickly shut the curtains. "She just worries a lot… If she doesn't think I'm on drugs, she thinks I'll die in some car crash." He shrugged, putting his seatbelt on.

"Oh…" Her brows furrowed. "Perhaps I should go say hello, let her know that I received a perfect score on my driver's test." She smiled. "Maybe it'll put her at ease."

He chuckled, knowing she was serious and maybe even gloating a little. "I appreciate it, really, but she'll keep you there the rest of the day just quizzing you… She's pretty nosy."

Nodding, she sat back and put the car into drive. "Well I'll have to meet her eventually, but you may have a point. The weekend might be better, when I don't have any pressing plans."

He grinned before reaching over and fiddling with her radio. "So any idea how we're gonna convince the school I'm leaving San for you?" he wondered.

"Well…" she drawled, eyes turned up in thought. "We don't want to make it _too _obvious. Subtlety is key. But then… we don't want to be overlooked either," she worried, chewing her lip. "See, when this was happening with Finn, we really had very little control over it and it was mutual and his pregnant girlfriend definitely wasn't encouraging us to be together…" She gripped the steering wheel tighter and he was sure if she could, she'd be wringing her hands instead.

He reached over to touch her forearm, his thumb rubbing circles to try and calm her down. "Hey, don't worry… We'll just hang out, see how people take it and then… You know, Santana will throw a fit and make some accusations and…" He shrugged. "I dunno, we'll break up."

"And you're _sure _you're okay with that?" she asked, her eyes wide and serious. "Because you've already lost Quinn, I don't want you to think this is a recurring habit!"

He lips stretched with amusement. "My first girlfriend wanted her ex-boyfriend more than me and my second girlfriend's a lesbian… If things turn out how like Santana wants, me and you have to fake be into each other and you're still in love with the guy my first girlfriend's dating…" He shook his head. "My love-life _sucks!_"

She frowned apologetically. "If it makes you feel better, had I any control over my feelings, I would feel nothing but irritation and spite toward Finn Hudson and gladly would I have fallen in love with you… You are much more appealing, both personality wise and physically." She wrinkled her nose. "Not that I think looks are a detrimental part to a relationship, but in comparison I _would _have to say that you are much more fit than Finn was." She raised her fingers off the wheel, but he was pretty sure she only allowed that small act because they were stopped at a crossing lane and so she wouldn't _somehow _lose control of the vehicle, "But again, I stress, while physical fitness is a good habit to encourage, I don't feel like looks are everything. Like my nose, for instance, would not be considered _naturally _beautiful, but it does get points for being unique."

"I like your nose," he told her. "Fits you."

She bounced a little in her seat, smiling over at him. "Thank you."

He grinned back, humming along to the song playing.

Her eyes flashed. "Ooh, I love this song." She leaned over to him, though her gaze was still on the road, and sang, "_And we don't notice any time pass, we don't notice anything, we sit side by side in every class, teacher thinks that I sound funny, but she likes the way you sing…_" She sat up a little straighter at a turn, letting her voice fall away.

He grinned, tapping his foot to the beat, "_Tonight I'll dream while I'm in bed when silly thoughts go through my head about the bugs and alphabet, and when I wake tomorrow I'll bet that you and I will walk together again cause I can tell that we are gonna be friends, yes I can tell that we are gonna be friends_…"

She smiled brightly, sitting up a little straighter as the school came into view. Taking a deep breath, she told him, "So this is it… No turning back…" She raised her brows at him, worriedly offering, "I could drop you off at the corner and you could walk in and nobody would be the wiser. I'm sure we could find an alternative plan to keeping the school unaware of Santana's raging sexuality."

He shook his head. "I don't know if you don't wanna be seen with me or if you're worried I don't wanna be seen with you… but I'm all for this plan."

"Oh…" She blinked, moving into the turning lane. "Oh, it's not that, Sam. I don't want you to think that I'm somehow embarrassed to be seen with you. That is not that situation at all!" She shook her head firmly. "That fact of the matter is, while this might help Santana out of a situation that I can't help but wish she would just embrace comfortably and with the same gusto she does anything else, how we're presenting it to help her is going to look poorly on us… I've already been called a home wrecking slag, but you're going to be seen as the boy who slummed it with Rachel Berry and trust me… It's not a very welcoming path to take."

He stared at her a long moment, at the somewhat forlorn expression on her face. Just as she was about to turn the wheel to leave the turning lane, he reached over and held firmly to it, staring at her seriously so he got his message across. "I think I'd rather hang with you than keep trying to be a guy I'm not… 'Cause the guy I keep trying to be is too much like Finn… And I don't like who he is." He half-smiled at her. "So me and you are gonna do this and everybody else…" He smirked. "Can go to hell."

Her lips curled faintly and then drew up widely until she was grinning at him. Nodding, she turned right into the parking lot and continued through to a free spot, looking completely confident. She turned off the ignition and put her keys away and then pivoted in her seat to look at him. "Ready?"

He nodded. "Ready."

"Good." She climbed out of the car and circled around to the trunk to get her trolley bag out while he grabbed his backpack out of her back seat. "Follow my lead," she murmured as they began their walk to the school doors.

There were a few cheerleaders and some random students milling about, some near vehicles, others smoking what Sam assumed was a cigarette but couldn't be sure. He hooked his thumbs in the straps of his backpack and glanced at Rachel from beneath his bangs as she walked with her chin up proudly and her pink trolley bag bouncing behind her. There was no trace of the nervousness she'd shown earlier and he half-smiled to himself; he didn't know how she did that but he kind of wished he could learn. Despite what he said, he was still a little nervous. He didn't know McKinley like Rachel did, most of the students either ignored him or only really paid attention when he had Quinn or Santana on his arm. But Rachel was totally different; a good kind of different, sure. Just maybe not to them.

Thanks to his relationship with Quinn, he hadn't had much of a chance to get to know Rachel. All he really knew was that she was seriously disliked by most people, especially Quinn. There were times that his girlfriend was trying to be nicer so she'd make an effort _not _to insult Rachel, but it was still pretty obvious that they'd never be best friends. Sam was the kind of guy who didn't really judge though or he didn't try to. When Kurt wanted to sing with him, it was cool. Gay or not, the guy could really carry a tune and he just wanted to win. Even when Finn said it would hurt his rep, he still figured keeping his word was more important, but then Kurt said he shouldn't sing with him and Quinn came along and it all just sort of fell into place. He was finally going to be popular and have a really pretty girlfriend and all he had to do was _not _be as geeky as he really was. So he did it and he fit in and it was okay… Until Finn wanted her back and she decided he was a better choice. Sure, in the end she said she wanted Sam, but he didn't want to be the guy she ended up with, he wanted to be the guy she never questioned being with in the first place.

So now here he was, hanging with Rachel Berry, about to make it look like he was into her so he could break up with Santana or she could break up with him, whichever, just so she could get out of being _touched _by him 'cause apparently boy cooties were gross. He mentally rolled his eyes. Then he wondered if Rachel would be upset if he touched her. She liked boys, so she shouldn't mind. But they were just friends and this was all for show, so he thought maybe he should keep his hands to himself. He'd probably only mess it up anyway.

They'd made it inside the school by then and even though he felt like all eyes were on them, only a few seemed to glance over. Maybe they thought him and Rachel had just walked in at the same time. He looked over to her, raising a brow like he was waiting for her cue.

"So, do you think your grandmother will attend Regionals?" she wondered, smiling up at him.

Not for the first time, he noticed Rachel had a really pretty smile. At least when it was genuine. Sometimes she did that really big, all teeth, panting breath grin of hers and it looked like she was trying not to eat little children or something… He should probably stop watching the Space channel before he went to bed. But this smile, this soft curl of her lips, it made her look prettier, more gentle. "I dunno…" He shrugged. "I think she'd want to come but I also think she'd want to talk to everybody in glee and that could get awkward…" He frowned, imagining his gram examining all the gleeks' eyes, commenting on pupil dilation and accusing them of all being drug addicts. Maybe not the best first impression.

"Well, I have it on good authority that both my dads will be attending…" Her eyes lit up. "They're usually so busy. Daddy's a doctor and dad is an accountant, so they work long hours." She bounced with excitement. "But they've both made sure that they'll have time off so they can see us perform." She reached out and squeezed his arm happily, her fingers curling into the crook of his elbow easily. "Oh, I can't wait! I mean, I still think that Mr. Shuester is wrong and that while we did a good job of performing Sing, an original song would give us more power and passion!" She nodded firmly, her expression taking on an edge. "Which is _why _I've been writing one in my spare time." She looked up at him almost hesitantly. "Although I would appreciate it if you would please keep that to yourself… I think the last thing I need is to hear New Directions' input and have them ridicule my writing abilities."

He nodded. "I won't mention it then." He glanced down, noticing that her fingers were still curled around his bicep, drumming absently. "Do you have a lot of it written or…?"

"Some…" She flushed prettily. "I did finish one song but I feel it definitely lacked the inner spirit I had been hoping for." She smiled sheepishly at him. "It may or may not have been about my headband."

He laughed. "Your _headband?_"

She nodded. "I know… It's absolutely ridiculous. Which is why, of course, you can see that I'm not yet ready to explain to our fellow gleeks that I'm writing a song at all… My creativity ebbs and flows at the most inopportune of times, so one moment I'll think inspiration has struck and then…" Her shoulders slumped. "Then I've lost it!" She shook her head. "If it continues on, I may just forfeit and give in to the lackluster appeal of singing a song I'm sure won't ring as true… Especially since we know Coach Sylvester is no doubt certain that it's the song we'll use."

His brows furrowed. "Maybe you just need to stop trying so hard…" he suggested. "Sometimes, when I'm drawing, I put so much pressure on myself that I just keep messing up." He shrugged. "It's like I want it too bad so it doesn't work out."

Rachel nodded, her lips pursed. She tugged him to the right so she could stop at her locker. "That makes sense…" As she twisted in her comm., she glanced up at him curiously, "So you draw?"

"Oh, uh…" He hadn't really meant to mention that. He rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Yeah, I like comic books, so… I thought maybe I could make my own, y'know?"

"Oh!" She swung her locker open and then bent at her bag to go through her books and put some of them away or exchange them for others. "That's wonderful! Hobbies are very necessary to one's sanity, I think."

"Yeah, well… I was kinda thinking maybe it could be one of those hobbies that turns into a career though. I mean, if I'm good enough..." He shrugged. "Like maybe one day it'll be in the same league as Superman or Green Arrow."

"I'm afraid I don't follow the graphic novel circuit, so I'm not sure I'll be of much help. I've definitely know of Superman, though I've only really seen the original movies and so all of my knowledge is based off the cinematic interpretation and Christopher Reeve's acting." She stood back up, placing her trolley bag inside her locker and closing it. "Do you have any of the Superman comics?"

"Yeah, sure, I've got a few. I can show them to you if you want."

"I would really like that," she encouraged.

He grinned widely. "Cool."

She was just about to say something, when she paused, seeing something past his shoulder. "Okay… I'm going to laugh like you've said something really funny and then I want you to reach out and, I don't know, just do something that seems intimate…" She waved her fingers dismissively. "Something that can be easily misinterpreted, all right?"

"Um—"

"Oh, Sam!" She slapped at his shoulder playfully. "You're so funny!" She giggled thickly, fluttering her fingers to the necklace at her throat as her laughter rang out, drawing eyes.

He grinned back, not exactly sure what he was supposed to be doing. And then she raised a brow and he jumped into action to do something _intimate.._. Hesitantly, he reached out, thinking to tuck her hair behind her ear. She turned her head just in time and his fingers grazed her cheek slowly, lingering. His arm seemed to stop all on its own and for a second he just let his thumb hover atop her high cheekbone. Wow. Her skin was really soft. Her gaze fell to his hand and then raised back up and she swallowed, her eyes widening slightly. He sighed suddenly, heavily, when he realized he'd stopped breathing for a few seconds. Half-smiling, a little in awe, he pushed his fingers past her cheek to tuck her hair behind her ear like he'd meant to, and then let them drag down her long, chestnut curls. It was like _everything _about her was soft in that moment. She breathed out a chuckle and even it seemed gentler, more feminine.

The moment was broken then when Santana's angry voice shouted, "What the hell is this?"

Startled and forgetting for a moment that this was actually what she wanted, he stuttered, "Uh…" His eyes turned away and then looked back apologetically. "Nothing?"

She glared up at him, crossing her arms over her chest. "_Nothing? _So you're just feeling up on Celine Dion and I'm supposed to pretend that's _okay?_"

"Uh…" He glanced at Rachel and then back at Santana who now had her hands on her hips and her head cocked to one side menacingly. "Yeah?"

She snapped her fingers at him. "Oh no, no, no, Ken Doll." She motioned to herself. "This mama is nobody's stand-in. You wanna get your freak on with the freak, you best be saying goodbye to _all this_ _fine!_"

"Santana," Rachel interrupted, "I really don't think you want to encourage Sam to _choose_…" She raised her brows. "You may not like the outcome."

The Latina girl motioned for her to shut her mouth and then glared up at Sam. "Well?"

"Oh, uh…" He looked between them and then at the outlying crowd and swallowed tightly. "Rachel... I-I pick Rachel."

People gasped, beginning to talk to each other and text others.

She sneered and then glared spitefully at Rachel. "He'll get bored with you, Treasure Trail," she scoffed. "They _all _do." With that, she turned on her heel and walked away, head held high.

Rachel pursed her lips. "That parting line was completely unnecessary," she muttered.

He half-smiled. "Sorry?"

She looked up at him and then at the crowd around them. "Personally, I'm very flattered that you chose me over Santana, Sam… Your taste in woman has only gotten better." She winked at him before clearing her throat and glaring at the watchful crowd. "Now if only these _vultures _would mind their own _business_…"

Since they ignored her, he shrugged. "C'mon, I should get my books for class anyway."

"Oh, yes, of course… I'll just…" She reached out hesitantly and took his hand for onlookers. Her fingers brushed his just slightly before she arched her palm up into his.

He smiled, threading their fingers and tugging her close before he turned to start walking toward his locker. The further they got, the less people seemed to crowd them. They still stared and whispered and a few even took pictures with their phones, but they were far enough away at least that they could talk to each other. "So, I think that went well," he said, squeezing her hand.

"Yes…" she agreed, nodding. "And in a few days, when EvanBerry has officially broken up, you can go to Santana seeking a reunion which will allow her the chance to save face when she tells you your chance was lost." She grinned up at him. "It will be perfect."

His lips tweaked with a smirk. "EvanBerry?"

"Oh…" She flushed. "Well, it was either that or Samchel and personally, it sounded too much like Finchel for my tastes. I feel EvanBerry has a much nicer quality to it. It rather rolls off the tongue, don't you think?" Raising a hand, she made a rolling motion as she repeated, "_EvanBerry_…"

He nodded. "EvanBerry… I like it."

"Great. Hopefully it'll catch on." She bobbed her head side to side. "Not that it's all that important, of course. I mean, three days from now this will all have passed… To be honest, I was hoping Santana would just make a scene and _accuse _you of something and you two would break up on principle. I hadn't expected us to get together…"

"Was I supposed to pick her when she asked?" he wondered, frowning. "Maybe we should've done a rehearsal beforehand."

She laughed. "No, it-it's fine. We can work with this. Like I said, it's only a few days to give the illusion that we did in fact give it a try and then we'll let the masses know that we've broken up… And things will return to normal."

"Right, with me girlfriendless and Santana safely hidden in her closet."

"Right." She nodded and then paused. "Oh. I'm sorry. I guess I didn't really realize just how much this might affect you… I know how hard it is to try and get through high school without a partner." She reached over to pat his arm. "But if it makes you feel any better, we've still got all those plans to tend to. Mini-golf, bowling, movies…" She listed off her fingers. "And relationships can be really hard work while our friendship seems to be blooming all on its own!"

He smiled at her enthusiasm. "Yeah, it'll be good."

"Are you sure?" she worried. "Because you seem a little upset."

"No." He shook his head. "I'm okay. I just…" He laughed shortly, emotionlessly. "I like holding someone's hand when I walk through the halls… Or calling somebody late at night just to talk… Listening to their voice before I fall asleep… Cuddling on the couch while watching movies…" He half-smiled sadly. "It's not even really Quinn I miss… I just… I dunno…"

"No, I understand," she told him softly.

He sighed, stopping as they reached his locker. He undid his comm. without releasing her hand and tugged open the door. He had to let go to shrug off his backpack but he couldn't shake the feeling that he didn't want to. Ignoring it, he leafed through his books for what he might need.

"You'll find someone," she said, while he stared frowning into his bag. "You're very special, Sam, and I think you deserve someone just as wonderful as you are."

He grinned over at her crookedly. "Thanks, Rach."

She nodded.

As the bell rang, she reached over to rub his arm. "I forgot my books back at my locker. After all the drama…" She shook her head. "I'll see you at glee?"

"You don't think we should get together at break or lunch?" he wondered, brows furrowed. "Um, I mean, to keep up the charade or whatever?"

"Oh, yes…" She nodded quickly. "I usually eat in the choir room, but that's mostly to avoid ridicule or slushees," she admitted. "But I guess we could debut in the cafeteria, keep the gossip running."

"Okay. Um…" He looked around and then bent forward and kissed her cheek. "See, uh— See ya later."

"Yes," she breathed, reaching up and touching her face. "Goodbye." She turned, looking back at him once over her shoulder before shuffling on through the crowd.

Sam smiled after her, hauling out his books. So that… went a lot better than he expected. Either Rachel was a really awesome actress, like way better than anybody gave her credit for, or maybe she felt that _zing _he did when they touched. Either way, he was officially no longer Santana's boyfriend and she was safe from being labeled. All in all, he was pretty sure they were doing the right thing. Now if only his stomach would stop jumping around and his heart would quit racing, he could convince himself all he wanted with Rachel Berry was a low key friendship.

If only.

[**Next**: Chapter III.]

**Music**:

**We Are Gonna Be Friends** – _The White Stripes_


	4. Chapter III

**Title**: All These Labels  
**Category**: Glee  
**Genre**: Humor/Romance  
**Ship**: Rachel/Sam  
**Rating**: Teen (subject to change)  
**Warning(s)**: Spoilers for Sexy and the **promo** to Original Song  
**Word Count**: 5,002  
**Summary**: When Santana asked Rachel to distract Sam she had no idea what it would lead to. But it certainly surpassed her expectations and more.

**Author's Note**: _Because_ _I'd written this story before Original Song was aired, there will be various plot differences from canon and so my story is based _solely _off the **promo** to Original Song and various information I'd gathered previously. Like that Rachel wrote 'Loser Like Me,' so be forewarned now that it won't play out as it did in the show. _

**_All These Labels_**  
-Novel-

**III**.

Rachel hummed under her breath on her way to her second period. She was still smiling from the text Sam had sent her while he made his way to math. _Left foot, right foot, feet feet feet, how many feet if seven girls are in a circle? _She chuckled under her breath, typing back, _Seuss, Sam I am? I'm pleasantly surprised._ She was almost to her chemistry class when an arm reached out and grabbed her, hauling her into the confines of a supply closet. She frowned into the darkness. "While I admire your creativity, Sam, some warning would have been nice."

"Not your precious _Sam_, Berry," Santana replied, before reaching over and flipping on a light. "But I'm glad _one _of us is happy to have his paws all over her." She shuddered for effect.

Rachel rolled her eyes, releasing her trolley bag to cross her arms over her chest. "And to what do I owe this stimulating conversation?" she wondered. "I thought I was doing as you asked; giving you an _out_, as it were." She smiled at her own quip.

"Yeah, you really work _quick_, don't you?" she sneered.

"Are you honestly trying to tell me that you're _upset _with our progress?" She shook her head. "It was _your _idea!"

"Yeah, well, I didn't think he'd go for it so quickly!" she snapped, frowning. "I mean…" She scoffed. "What _is _it about you? You got Finn _and _Puck and then Finn _again!_ And now _Sam!_" She threw her hands up. "What exactly do you have between your legs? An _X-Box?_

Offended, Rachel gasped at the insinuation. "Unlike _someone _in this room, I happen to consider my virginity something _important _and therefore have not just _spread my legs _for whatever male individual happened to pay me attention at the time." She stomped her foot. "And just so _you _know, I did not _steal _Sam away from you! He happened to overhear our conversation yesterday and decided to help with the rouse so that _you_ wouldn't be spoken about in any manner you disliked."

Santana stared back at her, expression falling slowly. "_Oh_."

"Oh is right," Rachel returned, lifting her nose into the air. "While I realize you have little interest in Sam romantically, I still think you owe him an apology and perhaps even an explanation. He seems to understand, but it might sound better coming from you." Smoothing out her shirt to calm herself, she nodded and gripped her bag once more. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a class to get to." She turned to leave, but stopped when Santana said her name, her _first _name.

"Rachel… Hey… Listen…" She sighed, eyes darting away like she was embarrassed or even _vulnerable _somehow. "Thank you, okay?"

She looked back at her hesitantly, not sure if she should buy in to Santana's innocent act.

"Look, I know I haven't been very nice to you… I've been a real bitch, actually." She fidgeted. "But what you did for me, I mean with Sam and just… that you kept my secret and helped me out even though you didn't have to… I really… I mean I appreciate it, y'know?"

Softening, she nodded. "I know…" She clasped her hands together. "And I want you to know that if you're confused or if you're having any trouble understanding your feelings, you can always feel free to come to me… I'm sure if you were willing to talk openly, my dads would be happy to discuss the situation and help you with whatever decision you might want to make. Be it coming out or not, that's completely up to you." She smiled slowly. "And if not us, then there are other channels you can go through. Hotlines you can call or—"

"Okay, Berry, seriously," she interrupted irritably. "I get it. There's options." She rolled her eyes.

"All right, well as long as you're sure…" She moved back toward the door to leave. "See you later, Santana."

"Yeah, later."

Leaving the room, Rachel scurried out and continued on toward her class, smiling brightly to herself, proud of what had just happened. Yes, Santana wasn't her favorite person, but at least they'd come to some sort of understanding. She really hoped Santana would seek out counseling with someone. Having those questions about love and sexual orientation, they had to be confusing, and she deserved to truly explore them and figure herself out without bias or ridicule. She was just glad she could help in whatever manner necessary.

And really, maybe she owed Santana a thank you. She did, after all, introduce her to Sam, who Rachel had unfortunately overlooked until the opportunity arose. She couldn't thank Santana enough for the enlightenment.

…

Lunch hour brought with it the trepidation of facing a cafeteria full of her peers, many of whom did not like her. With her home made lunch in hand, Rachel peered uncertainly through the doors at the milling students, all loud and rambunctious and unaware that she was about to join them. She hoped none of them had slushees or at the very least they didn't want to waste them on her.

"You okay?" Sam asked, rubbing her shoulder.

She looked up at him. "I'm a little nervous," she admitted.

He smiled reassuringly. "We can skip it if you want… Just go eat in the choir room."

"It rather defeats the purpose," she reminded, though it did sound much more appealing.

He shrugged. "If we skip, they'll probably just think we spent lunch making out somewhere."

The idea did have merit. Or, well, the assumption anyway. She wasn't about to actually _do _that… Although it did sound very appealing and he did have a very attractive smile that continued to make her stomach squirm and jump in a manner ill suited for friends. She chose to staunchly ignore it. "No…" She shook her head. "We'll go in, we'll have our lunch, and then we'll get out of there hopefully before they make a slushee soup of us."

"Sounds like tons of fun," he muttered, but after a sigh, he held out his hand for her to take.

She took his hand firmly in her own and squeezed. "I bet you're wishing you never overheard that conversation and could blissfully go back to being completely unaware of Santana's turmoil and our subsequent plan, aren't you?"

He chuckled, threading their fingers and reaching out to shove the cafeteria doors open. "Nope… I'm pretty happy with where I am."

As they stepped through, Rachel put on her stage smile and kept her chin high. She chose to ignore the way people stared, even pointed, many of them whispering, and instead followed Sam's lead as he walked toward a nearby empty table. He didn't bother with going to the jock table and she was so thankful for it she nearly slumped with relief. Instead, they took a seat side-by side, far enough away from the jocks that she wasn't uncomfortable. He upended his brown bag and went through what he had. "Apple, bag of Doritos, and a triple-stack ham sandwich… You?"

"Tofurkey on rye, sliced oranges, celery sticks and soy-dip, and a vegetable juice," she told him, spreading it out in front of her.

"Trade my apple for your oranges," he offered, winking as he shined it on his shirt for her.

She giggled, reaching out to take it. "Deal, Mr. Evans."

"Awesome." Taking the little baggy, he grabbed one out and stuck it in his mouth rind and all. She was about to wonder why when he smiled at her and revealed the orange slice across his teeth.

She laughed at his playful behavior.

"'o I 'ave 'omething 'n my 'eeth?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

She shook her head. "Absolutely not, continue about your day as is."

He snorted, spitting the rind out in his hand and grinning at her. "'Cause _that_ wouldn't embarrass you all day…"

She looked up at him earnestly. "Nothing you ever do will embarrass me, Sam."

He stared at her a long moment and then nodded. "Ditto."

She was absolutely sure he was wrong and given her history with Finn she had a few examples of typical Rachel behaviors that would likely make him run for the hills, but he was looking at her with such blatant honesty that she really didn't want to burst his bubble. And possibly, maybe, she hoped he really would feel that way for the remainder of their friendship. As he sat back in his chair and looked through his bag of Doritos, picking out one and munching on it and then frowning to himself, she felt his leg reach out and his foot hook around her ankle. She didn't even think he knew he was doing it and she remembered well how he'd told her he would miss being able to physically be in contact with another person and it was the one thing he regretted about his 'break-up' with Santana. But seeing as she was already pulling away from him and the whole _reason _behind their break-up was because she couldn't pretend to enjoy his touch anymore, Rachel couldn't feel too bad about her part in it. And if she liked how he held her hand or touched her cheek or tangled their legs together, then that was just a bonus to doing a kind thing for Santana.

"Hey? When we're done, you wanna hit the gym?" he asked her, his brows furrowed as he tossed the half-eaten bag of Doritos away.

She shrugged. "I've never really spent any time in the gym, but if you'd like to, I'm sure we could go there… Or if you'd feel more comfortable, I could go on to the choir room to work on my song and you can spend the last half of lunch working out," she suggested.

He frowned, thinking it over. "Nah, we can hang out. Maybe you can show me your song, if you want."

She tipped her head, remembering how unenthusiastic Finn had been when she sang for him. Then again, it had been about a headband. "I suppose…" A little nervous, she admitted, "It may not be very good."

"That's what first drafts are for, right?"

She smiled. "You're very encouraging, did you know that?"

He flushed. "That's good though, right?"

"Yes." She nodded. "It's an admirable quality."

He nodded, grabbing up half his sandwich. "Cool."

Conversation was left to the wayside as they each focused on their meal, though Rachel noticed Sam's foot was tapping lightly against her own now, as if to a beat he was singing in his head. She found she liked it. She smiled brightly at how comfortably they could sit with each other with no words to fill the silence. A miracle for her since she found she often felt if she spoke often eventually someone would take her up on a conversation piece and invite them into their inner sanctum as an olive branch of friendship. So far it hadn't worked but she continued to try. Odd, but she didn't feel like she needed to say anything, she was just content to watch the expressions play over his face as he picked the tomato off his sandwich and offered it to her before taking a large bite of his overly meat-stuffed sandwich.

They were nearly finished eating when two other gleeks finally ventured over to the table.

Mercedes looked from her to Sam, her brows furrowed. "Hey… guys…" she said slowly. "So… How's it going?"

"Very well," Rachel replied. "And yourselves?"

Tina darted her gaze between them. "Good…"

"Cool," Sam agreed, brushing sandwich crumbs off his hands absently.

"So, uh… What happened with Santana, Sam?" Mercedes wondered.

"Broke up," he said, shrugging.

"It was a very dramatic scene this morning," Rachel intervened, drawing a deep breath. "A misinterpretation really that led to an expression of feelings neither of us had expected but were equally unable to ignore."

The two girls blinked at her.

"Huh?" Mercedes wondered.

"Santana thought I was cheating on her with Rachel and told me to choose…" He shrugged. "So I chose Rachel."

"Since… _when_," She shook her head, "have you two been interested in _each other?_"

"Celibacy Club brought us closer," Rachel told them, reaching across to touch Sam's bicep in a sign of affection. "And last night, while I gave Sam a ride home, we simply bonded…" She smiled brightly at the boy at her side. "He's very charming and I happen to enjoy his company."

He smiled boyishly at her.

"O…kay…" Tina shook her head. "I'm… gonna go see what Mike's doing… And maybe check that we haven't stumbled into an alternate universe… Kay?" She hopped up and walked away, glancing back once as if she thought the whole thing might just be a figment of her imagination.

"So wait… Did you or _didn't _you cheat on Santana with Rachel?" Mercedes demanded, her expression both curious and verging on judgmental.

"Oh, uh… No?" Sam replied, frowning. "I mean, me and Rachel haven't _done _anything, we just…" He sighed. "It's really complicated."

Rachel patted his arm. "It's fine, Sam." She turned to look at Mercedes. "Feelings arose that we hadn't expected. We did not act on them until he and Santana had agreed their relationship was no longer working out for them. Please believe me when I say that they had troubles before I became a part of the equation." She raised a brow. "Now if that's all… Sam and I were going to take a walk to work off some of our lunch." She rose from her seat, smiling at the bewildered girl. "We'll see you in glee?"

"Yeah…" she said, still a little dazed. "See you guys later."

Sam's hand found the small of her back as they turned to leave, his thumb stroking absently.

Rachel was momentarily distracted by his touch while he chattered on, "That was awesome. I mean, I wasn't sure if we were gonna come clean to the glee club, but this makes sense. It should probably only be between me, you and Santana. I'm not even sure if all of glee _knows _Santana's into Brittany."

"I'm fairly sure they do," she admitted, gathering her senses. He was walking so close to her and each time she breathed in it seemed she was inhaling all _Sam_. It was a lovely scent; a little spicy and clean like soap and very, very masculine. She had to stop herself from leaning over and burying her nose against his chest and just breathing deep. "So, um, the choir room then?"

"Yeah." He nodded. "Sounds good." He leaned into her a little more and wondered, "So you think Mercedes and Tina will get the word out? It'll probably be easier than repeating the story. I don't wanna have to keep explaining ourselves."

"Mercedes is a very proactive gossip… She will definitely make sure the rest of the club knows. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if they _already _know."

Before he could respond, they saw Mr. Shuester coming out of Coach Sylvester's office. "Hey, Rachel, Sam…" His brows furrowed. "Wait, what are you guys doing hanging out? I thought—" He shook his head, waving his hand around dismissively. "Never mind. Look, I'm glad I found you, actually. We're going to have to cancel glee today. Move it to tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" She frowned. "But why?" She took a deep breath, lifting her chin and scolding, "Mr. Shuester, with Regionals so close, I really don't think this is the time to be playing loose with our schedule. We have to get in as much practice as we can." She hammered her fist into her open palm pointedly.

"Yes, Rachel, I know," he sighed. "And I need you to just trust me on this, all right? We _will _be ready for Regionals. And we will practice until you're _exhausted_. But tomorrow, not today." He started walking, obviously in a hurry. "Get the word out, okay?" He raised his brows seriously.

"You can count on us, Mr. Shue!" Sam declared, fist-pumping the air in a show of unity.

He grinned back before turning and hurrying off.

Rachel frowned. "Well… That leaves my night completely open…" She shook her head. "I hate when plans change so suddenly like that."

"You could come over to my house? Or we could go mini-golfing!" He brightened. "Why not get a head start? We were gonna get together on the weekend anyway, right?"

She nodded, admitting, "That's true. I suppose mini-golf would make up for a lost night of glee." She smiled. "I'll let my dad and daddy know to put my dinner away for me then; I'm sure they'll just be happy I'm out with a friend."

"Or we could go out and eat. I dunno if BreadstiX has vegan alternatives, but I'm sure we can find somewhere."

She nodded. "That sounds great."

"Awesome."

After a stop at Rachel's locker for her sheet music and lyrics, they left for the choir room. Thankfully, it was empty, and so she took a seat at the piano and patted the place next to her for him to join her. "So, I've mostly been doing this by piano but I admit it would probably sound better with guitar… More peppy," she explained. "I don't play guitar, however, so I was thinking you might be able to help me. Of course, you may not want to link your name to something as terrible as I quite possibly have written, so please don't offer your services until you're sure."

He chuckled. "All right…"

"Okay, I have the first two verses written and the male lead's part complete. And I have bits and pieces that I want to work in somewhere…" She spread the papers out to show him the lyrics with her many scribbles and scratch outs. "It still needs work and I've reconsidered moving this here… Or that there…" She pointed lines out, frowning as she sang under her breath and shook her head. "No, that part doesn't even work, I—"

"I really like it," he interrupted.

"You…" Her chest fluttered appreciatively and she blinked at him, a little uncertain. "You _do?_"

"Yeah." He grinned at her. "I'd be really proud to write the guitar music to it."

So happy that he had agreed, Rachel threw her arms around his neck and hugged him, wiggling in her seat next to him. "This is going to be great!"

He laughed, the rumble thick and deep against her shoulder as he patted her back.

Her eyes fell to half-mass, the warmth of his body, the smell of him, the sound of his chuckle… It was proving distracting. She drew back quickly and breathed deeply. "_Okay!_" she cheered, trying to shake off the way her brain found itself a little fuzzy when in such close proximity to him. "Now… Maybe you should hear how I sing it first, just to get a feel." She nodded, her fingers dancing atop the piano keys and then away. "Like I said before, I think the guitar will make it sound more upbeat while the piano tends to make it more maudlin." She scanned through the lyrics and then nodded as she found where she wanted to sing…

Turning in her seat, she looked directly at him, belting it out…

_Just go ahead and hate on me and run your mouth  
So everyone can hear  
Hit me with the words you got and knock me down  
Baby, I don't care  
Keep it up, I'm tunin' up to fade you out  
You wanna be  
You wanna be  
A loser like me  
A loser like me…_

He smiled as she sang, though there was something sad to it. As he looked back at the lyrics, he nodded before adding the male lead part in the same tune as her.

_Push me up against the locker  
And hey, all I do is shake it off  
I'll get you back when I'm your boss  
I'm not thinkin' 'bout you haters  
'Cause hey, I could be a superstar  
I'll see you when you wash my car…_

She giggled, bowing her head. "It sounds rather arrogant, doesn't it?"

He laughed and bumped his shoulder against hers. "True though, right?"

She smirked. "Absolutely."

He reached for the papers and smiled to himself. "Can I borrow these? Or like, maybe we can make a copy?" At her furrowed brows, he explained, "After mini-golf tonight, I wanna see if I can work on some music to it… Fiddle with the sound until it fits."

She nodded. "Sure." She touched his hand, explaining, "I'd rather we do it off school grounds, though. Coach Sylvester can't be trusted and I honestly think she'd go to any lengths to find something like this."

He grinned. "Yeah, she's kinda scary."

As they chuckled agreeably, the bell rang shrilly, warning them that lunch was over.

Sighing, Rachel rose from her seat. "This was fun," she told him. "I generally spend my lunch hour alone, so it was nice to have company."

He took her hand as they walked toward the outlying hallway. "Yeah… We should make it like a daily thing."

She smiled. "Sure."

Moving through the hustle and bustle of the students, she felt a warm flush throughout her body as he hugged her close so they wouldn't be separated. When he dropped her off at her locker, he kissed her cheek, smiling widely before he turned to leave. Not for the first time, she thought Quinn Fabray was truly clueless. She'd let go of a very special person. Of course, Rachel was happy to reap the rewards and would continue doing so for as long as life might grant her. It did have a rather cruel way of taking things away from her just as she began enjoying them. She hoped Sam was different. So far, all signs were proving that so.

…

Sam couldn't stop grinning. Sure hanging with Rachel and just eating or talking music wasn't as fun as how he and Santana would make out a lot or how Quinn would sneak in kisses when she wasn't talking about the awesome virtues of God or whatever, but she was cool. It was easy for him to hang with her; to tell her about himself like _honestly_. Quinn and Santana had both warned him not to be too geeky and maybe they were doing it so he'd keep his popularity or maybe they were doing it because they didn't want to look lame being with him, but it always made him feel pretty bad. Rachel wasn't like that though. She didn't know a whole lot about comic books, but she didn't tell him not to talk about it. She just tried to take an interest in what he liked. He thought maybe that made more sense than putting it down and telling him to just _stop _liking it.

Her song was still ringing in his ears when he grabbed his books from his locker and left for class. She was a good writer and with the right tune he thought it was going to win them Regionals. But when he thought about where it came from, _why _it was so powerful, he kind of felt bad. Rachel was picked on like, _a lot_. He didn't really know why because, yeah, she talked a lot and she used some pretty big words and maybe that wasn't like expected at her age, but whatever. She was also really sweet and she was always trying to do the right thing, even if she went about it the wrong way. Good intentions or whatever. The thing that really bugged him though was that he knew it was happening. He'd seen others do things, heard them say things, and he never put a stop to it. Even his girlfriends at the time had been pretty cruel and he'd just stayed quiet. Which was like saying it was okay… and he really didn't think it was.

He wondered if that made him a bad person.

He took a seat in class and frowned down into his notebook. He thought about texting her, even just sending her a smiley face to show her he was thinking about her. Before he could even get his phone out of his pocket someone took the seat next to him and he was distracted. He looked up to see Puck frowning at him. "Uh… Hey?" he said, looking away, almost suspiciously, and then back.

Usually, Puck sat with Mike. Or sometimes Finn. Never Sam.

He didn't know why, but most of the guys in glee didn't really like him. Or maybe they didn't feel like getting to know him. He wasn't sure. But he usually had Quinn and then Santana so he didn't really care. Now that he didn't have any girlfriend, at least not a real one, he was kind of wishing he had a bro to hang with. He'd tried feeling out Artie to see if he was up for it, but when he realized what San and Brittany were _really _like with each other, he figured he probably burned that bridge my accidentally implying him and Artie should get their bromance on in a way he didn't actually mean.

Since Puck was glaring at him, he thought maybe he was out too.

"What's up with you and Berry?" Puck asked, short and straight.

"Um…" At first, he was going to say nothing, and then he remembered that the gleeks didn't _know _him and Rachel were kind of _fake _dating. "We're dating?" He really had to stop answering questions like that. Rachel was always so confident in herself; he wished that would rub off already.

Puck's brows furrowed. "Weren't you up in Satan's evil business yesterday?"

"Kind of?" He frowned. "Me and San didn't really work out and Rachel's… Well she's…" He didn't know how to word it in a way that Puck might get. Puck responded to _hot _and _easy _not _sweet _and _really cool_.

"Nah, man, I get it." He shrugged, drumming his fingers on the desktop. "I mean, Berry's kinda addictive. Like, you don't even know _why _you're into her or _when _it happened, but she like… gets under your skin and then just _burrows _there… Like a freakin' _tick!_"

Sam's brows knotted. "Uh… I _guess_…" He shook his head. To him, Rachel wasn't really an _insect_. But he didn't really have the words to explain how she made him feel either. "She's just really easy to hang out with, y'know? Like… She's not as judgmental as some of the other girls and she doesn't make me feel dumb or weird…" He frowned, admitting, "I don't know why so many people don't like her…"

"'Cause she's loud and she's actually _going _somewhere…" He rolled his eyes. "None of these losers wanna have somebody rub it in their face that the best they'll do is make manager at McD's in Lima." He snorted. "And she's like _proof _of that… She's getting her hot ass to New York and the rest of us are just gonna sit here and bitch about how shitty it is that she made it and we didn't."

Sam pursed his lips, nodding. "She _is _gonna make it." He didn't know her as long or probably even as well as Puck, but anybody who met Rachel Berry knew that she was going to make it. He was kind of proud of her, actually.

"Yeah, so, listen dude…" He turned in his seat and leaned in threateningly. And while the rest of the football team ragged on Puck for being in _home-explosion_, saying that he wasn't really tough anymore, Sam had to admit he was looking really scary right about now. "Berry's my boy… but like, with boobs. Boobs she never let me touch, which was totally whack, but whatever…" He waved his hand dismissively. "Point is… You hurt her…?" He raised a brow. "And I break your pretty face, big mouth and all."

Sam blinked. He kind of got stuck back on Rachel's boobs for a couple seconds, but when his brain caught up he nodded. "Um, okay?" He frowned. "I mean _okay_, not like I'm questioning it… Uh… I just…" He sighed. "I'm not gonna hurt her."

"Good… 'Cause she's had enough shit with Finn and Jesse and then Finn again and… I dunno, you were pretty cool with Quinn 'til she pulled her bitch-face and started hooking up with Finnocent again…" He shrugged. "But Berry's different… She's not like Quinn or Santana, she's just… She falls in love easily and she gets hurt even easier." He scowled. "So if this is just your way to get back with Quinn, making her jealous or some stupid shit, _don't_…" He raised a brow. "If you want her, be with her, just _don't _screw it up. And if you're not into her…? Then get the hell out before you hurt her." He shoved his chest pointedly before gathering his books and standing, moving to sit with Mike a few desks back.

Sam turned to see him go, still a little confused about what happened since he didn't think Rachel and Puck were all _that _close. And then Mike frowned at him and made an 'I've got my eyes on you, punk!' motion with his hand and Sam finally just gave up on understanding the glee kids and turned back around in his seat. He just didn't get it. How these guys could tell him not to hurt Rachel but let Finn pull his crap and not speak up when Santana and Quinn and even Mercedes sometimes put her down. But whatever, 'cause he wasn't going to be like them. He was going to be a good (fake) boyfriend to Rachel and an even better friend.

It was a promise he didn't need to make to Puck, but to himself, and he was going to follow through with it.

[**Next**: Chapter IV.]

**Music**:

_Loser Like Me_ – Rachel Berry and New Directions


	5. Chapter IV

**Title**: All These Labels  
**Category**: Glee  
**Genre**: Humor/Romance  
**Ship**: Rachel/Sam  
**Rating**: Teen (subject to change)  
**Warning(s)**: Spoilers for Sexy and the **promo** to Original Song  
**Word Count**: 7,214  
**Summary**: When Santana asked Rachel to distract Sam she had no idea what it would lead to. But it certainly surpassed her expectations and more.

**_All These Labels_**  
-Novel-

**IV**.

Sam couldn't remember the last time he'd been this excited to play mini-golf. Or, okay, he could. He was like eight and his mom was surprisingly sober and he'd gotten a hole in one at the end that won him a free ice cream cone. Tonight, he was getting picked up by Rachel though. He didn't think she'd make him put on sunscreen or readjust his Mickey Mouse hat or promise him to never drink again; mostly because it was night, he wasn't wearing a hat, and Rachel already swore to never drink again after she got puked on. Awkward. So now he was just standing in his bedroom, fiddling with his shirt. He was wearing the blue polo but then he thought maybe he should wear the red, so he stripped it off and changed but then he realized there was this really tiny stain up near the shoulder and he didn't know what it was but he couldn't stop staring at it, so he just _knew _she would see it too. He put the blue polo back on and then checked his pits to make sure he didn't smell; he added extra deodorant and then went downstairs to wait. He really wished he had his own car because getting her to drive him around everywhere felt super lame.

"Why are you so restless?" his gram wondered, peering up at him with her hawk eyes. "Are you waiting to _score? _There will be no drug deals at my house, mister!"

He rolled his eyes. "Gram, I'm _not _doing drugs… Me and Rachel are going mini-golfing…" He fiddled with his shirt-collar and thought maybe it was too fancy. Shirts with collars were fancier than t-shirts, weren't they? He stuffed his hands in his pockets so he'd stop playing with it, but he could feel it brushing his neck.

"Mini-golfing," she scoffed. "Probably a code word for sex and cocaine! I've seen those TV shows, Sammy… Talking about drugs and fornication like it's so _okay_… Lemme tell _you! _Wasting your life early by getting caught up in that business is by no means _okay!_"

He sighed, shoulders slumping. "I will take _pictures _if you want, but me and Rach are just going out to play mini-golf. It's not a code word. There will be golf clubs that are really short, especially since I'm kinda tall. And there's gonna be colorful little balls that we try to get into holes in really awkward places and…" He frowned. "This sounded a lot less dirty in my head. But gram, _please_… Just this once… Trust that I'm not doing something really stupid or crazy!"

She peered up at him thoughtfully and for what seemed like _forever_. "You have enough money for your game?" she wondered, reaching for her purse, the same faded flowery one she'd had since he was a kid. "And you better buy that girl dinner after; it's the gentlemanly thing to do, Sammy!" She leafed through her wallet and pulled out a few bills. "Here! Take it!"

He shook his head. "No, I've got enough. I still have some saved. I—"

She pushed up out of her chair and slapped the money into his palm. "I'm _trusting _you, Sam… Trusting you not to be your mom and to go out and have fun with this girl you like so much." She stuck a finger into his face seriously. "I want to meet her though and soon. Maybe not tonight. I'm playing Bridge with the girls in an hour. But _soon_…"

He smiled. "Okay… Maybe this weekend."

She nodded briskly and then tapped her cheek, accepting his kiss. "You have fun," she told him before walking off to the kitchen.

Just then, a horn honked outside and he grinned widely. "Later grams! Win big at Bridge!" He waved after her before walking out the door, locking it behind him and waving at Rachel even though he couldn't see her through the glare of her headlights.

He circled her car and climbed into the passenger seat, wiping his oddly sweaty palms along his jeans. "Hey," he said, pulling on his seatbelt.

"Hi," she greeted back, before looking into her rearview mirror and pulling slowly from his drive-way. "So I've already called ahead to make sure the course is open. It hadn't occurred to me that it may have been out of season." She smiled. "We're in lucky though! She said they don't get a whole lot of traffic but they're open until eight." She wiggled happily in her seat. "We can either play the whole course once, that's eighteen holes, or twice to make it thirty-six."

He shrugged. "We'll see when we're done the first game."

She nodded. "That's what I thought too." She peered over at him wonderingly, "Any ideas where you'd like to have dinner after?"

He grinned. "Yeah, I looked it up to see if there were any like, vegan restaurants we could go to… There's a site that's got all these suggestions and some warnings about where _not _to go. BreadstiX does have a few vegan meals, but I thought maybe we could try this other place. I forget what it's called but it's on like eighth street, right next to the pizza place…" He snapped his fingers, trying to remember and then shrugged. "We'll find it."

"Okay. I'm open to new things!" she assured.

"Cool. So… Your dads were okay with you hanging with me?"

"Oh yes. They think I don't have enough friends as it is. Of course, I have become closer to Kurt and therefore Mercedes as well, but we all have such busy schedules and so I really tend to spend a lot of my time focusing on my future career. I told them last night though that I'd made a new friend and they were very excited for me." She beamed up at him. "I'm sure they'd like to meet you eventually, so if things progress well you'll get to meet Hiram and Leroy Berry!"

"Unless you plan on ditching me anytime soon, I think we'll progress just fine," he joked.

She smiled back, but it was dimmer than before. "I'd just rather not put too much stock in the idea that we'll stay friends very long," she admitted. "I have a tendency to scare people off. I think it may have something to do with my abrupt personality… Or perhaps I'm just too verbose for most people our age." She shook her head. "I remain optimistic that my personality will become less of a hindrance when I'm older and therefore my peers are on the same intellectual wave length." Apologetic, she looked over at him with big, round eyes. "Not that I'm implying you aren't as smart as me, Sam. I think you're very intelligent. I just mean that perhaps when I'm older, my way of speaking won't seem so unusual."

He half-frowned. "No offense, Rach... But I don't know a whole lot of adults who talk like you either… It's not a bad thing," he offered, shrugging. "I think it's cute. You kind of ramble."

She smiled. "Oh… Well, that's very nice of you to say." She sat forward, peering ahead of her. "I think that's the golf course there…" She pointed with her finger. "They really should have a streetlight lit up… Do you think I should write somebody about that? Perhaps I could start a petition for better lighting…"

He chuckled. "I dunno… I'm not sure how many people will care."

She frowned. "They should. What do you suppose the car accident rate is in this area?" She turned into the parking lot and after gathering her things, climbed out of the car to meet him.

"No idea."

"I'll look it up," she declared.

The lights were lit up brightly inside the course, but the walls surrounding it were high, seemingly keeping it all inside. They walked to the small booth to pay admission, get their golf clubs and choose their ball each. Rachel didn't get the chance to argue before he handed over a twenty to pay for them and stuffed the change into his pocket.

"I'll reimburse you," she told him firmly.

He grinned back at her. "You can try."

She scoffed, but followed him into the main course area. He jutted his chin out for her to go first and so she took up position at the beginning of the green. She placed her neon pink ball down and leaned over her club, chewing her lip with concentration.

The first was rather easy; it was just getting the ball around Dumbo's trunk and through his legs to the hole. With her tongue now stuck out the side of her mouth, Rachel muttered to herself as she readjusted her stance.

He laughed. "It's not a solo… I haven't played since I was eight, you'll probably win."

"I probably will," she agreed, smiling teasingly.

He thinned his eyes, smelling a challenge. "We could make it interesting…" He brought the club up over his shoulders and behind his neck, hanging his hands from either end. "Up the stakes."

She raised a brow at him. "After you just admitted you hadn't played in eight years? Do you really want to suffer the embarrassment of losing a child's game to a girl hardly much taller than you likely were the last time you played?"

He laughed. "We should work on your smack talk, Rach…"

She rolled her eyes at him. "What kind of stakes?"

He sighed, thinking it over. "Winner gets to pick the movie we see this weekend… That means if you want something foreign or with subtitles, you better beat me or we're gonna see something with a lot of laughs and very little plot."

She nodded. "All right, Mr. Evans. You have yourself a deal!" She held her hand out for him and gave it a good brisk shake. "Now… Watch and learn…" Leaning back over her club, she brought it back and then swung it forward. The ball got around his trunk but bounced off his left hind leg a little. She pursed her lips. "Two putts then," she decided. She stepped back and waved him forward. "Your turn!"

He grinned, walking forward and dropping his green ball down, using his foot to keep it from rolling away after it bounced a little. He didn't waste time checking angles or which way the wind was going, he just swung. It rolled through, bounced off the right back leg and right into the hole.

She gaped.

He smirked. "Did I mention I was _really _good when I was _eight_?"

She clucked her tongue. "You tricked me."

His smile turned boyish. "You _let _me." He swung an arm around her. "Maybe now you won't underestimate me."

Eyes rolling, she inhaled deeply and then let it out with a huff. "First round to you… Seventeen more to go." She pivoted in his embrace and stood face to face with him, rising up on her tip toes. "I plan to wipe the Astroturf with you, Sam Evans." With that, she turned away and stalked off, her skirt bouncing against her thighs.

He grinned after her. She really was a lot of fun and he felt really lucky to know that.

She made the hole in two putts, as she expected. Their second course involved the whale from Pinocchio and Rachel got excited. "I played Pinocchio in our grade four play," she told him, grinning widely. "Of course, Mr. Murray wanted to cast a boy, for realism I'm sure, but he was blown away by my superior acting…" She rocked onto her heels and admitted, "I had my daddies cut my hair into a bob specifically for the role…" Her nose wrinkled. "I quickly decided wigs were a great investment."

He chuckled, imagining little Rachel all dressed up as the wooden toy turned boy. "Who was your Jiminy Cricket?"

Her eyes widened. "Mike Chang…" She pursed her lips. "He later said that it was because he was such a wise Asian…"

Sam laughed under his breath.

"He happened to make a very good cricket, in my honest opinion…" She sidled up and dropped her ball down, lining it up. "He was a little stage-shy even then, but I told him that if he just kept his eyes on me and acted like the crowd wasn't there, he probably wouldn't stutter so much."

"Did it work?"

She nodded, lining up her ball with the whale's extended plastic tongue. "It did until he got so wrapped up in pretending it was just a dress rehearsal that he went off script to ask if I'd finished my math homework, because he hadn't and was hoping he might be allowed to copy…" She smiled. "The crowd enjoyed it though and it helped loosen him up, I think." She swung her golf club and the ball rolled fluidly up through the whale's mouth, spat out his tail, banked off the far wall and rolled seamlessly into the hole.

Smugly, Rachel turned to smirk at him.

His brows rose. "Hidden skills, I see, Miss Berry."

She took a bow, rolling her arm regally.

"Should I be rethinking my bet here?" he wondered, taking her place at the green.

She tisked. "You buttered your bread. Now sleep in it!"

He laughed. "All right, all right… But when I win, I think we'll go see Hall Pass… or maybe Just Go With It…"

She pursed her lips. "Adam Sandler _is_ a Jewish American icon…" she admitted. "And I was really rooting for Jennifer Aniston over Angelina Jolie during that whole scandal with Brad Pitt…" She sighed. "Sure, Jolie is an active humanitarian, as well as her husband, but I just can't get behind the idea of her seducing another woman's husband…"

"So you're probably not going like Hall Pass then…" He used his foot to center the ball and then brought his club back. "What about animated movies? We could go see Rango… Johnny Depp's cool. Like in Pirates of the Caribbean!"

"Well I suppose we could… I do think voice-acting takes a considerable amount of talent in some respects…" Her brows furrowed. "Not that I believe you'll win, of course. I'm merely speaking hypothetically on the off-chance that an unforeseen problem results in my loss."

"Sure." He grinned, swung the club and watched as it sailed up and through. It bounced off the wall but overshot the hole a little. When he caught her smile, he cocked a brow. "Two putts brings us to a tie, Rach… Sixteen more holes."

She picked a piece of lint from her sweater and said simply, "All of which I plan to completely destroy you at."

He chuckled climbing over to give his ball a small tap, resulting in their tie. "You're kinda violent for such a small girl."

"Petite," she corrected. "And I'm not violent… I'm simply engaging in conversation that will slowly degrade your arrogance and hopefully knock you off your game so that I can reap the win."

"Smack talk," he told her. "And you're getting… better." He grabbed up their balls and tossed her hers. "Which one's next?"

"I think…" She scanned the area, her eyes checking posts for numbers. "There is it. Number three… Oh! It's Alice in Wonderland!" She hurried over, eyes moving over each and every intricate piece. The colors were faded but the scene itself was well done. There were small characters standing next to oversized jars like they'd recently drank shrinking potion, the Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum twins, and the Cheshire Cat's tail swinging back and forth across the hole they had to shoot through. She clasped her hands together, smiling widely.

He stepped up behind her and bowed his head near her ear, quoting, "How doth the little crocodile improve his shining tail. And pour the waters of the Nile, on every golden scale. How cheerfully he seems to grin, how neatly spreads his claws. And welcomes little fishes in, with gently smiling jaws…"

Her eyes glittered up at him when she turned her head so close their noses bumped. "Color me impressed, Sam."

His breath caught and he stumbled backwards a step. Thrusting a hand through his hair, he asked, "Any specific shade?"

She giggled, shaking her head before stepping up to play. "I'm rather partial to pink… Although red goes better with my complexion."

"What about blue?"

She glanced over, gaze narrowed knowingly. "You mean like in Avatar?"

He could feel his face warm up. "You know about that, huh?"

"I make it a point of interest to know my fellow gleeks… especially on the rare occasion that I become friends with one of them." She took a swing at the ball but it sailed directly into the tail and rolled right back to her. She huffed. "I have it on my To-Do list to audition for Avatar on Ice."

"Really?" His brows rose. "Cool."

"Do you skate?" she wondered, taking another swing.

"Yeah. I play hockey sometimes…"

When her ball ricocheted and returned to her once more, she stomped her foot. "But you didn't try out for the hockey team at McKinley?"

"Uh, well…" He rubbed the back of his neck, frowning. "The football team and hockey team don't really get along… and football's kinda cooler, so…"

"I see…" Her third try resulted in the same and she growled when the Cheshire Cat laughed at her in his hypnotic voice. "I call swindle on this game!"

He chuckled under his breath. "They don't make any more money if you don't get the ball through, Rachel." Leaning his club against the number post, he moved to stand behind her, aligning their bodies, and covered her hands with his. "It's all about timing," he told her, his voice soft against her ear. Her hair tickled his cheek as she turned to look up at him with those big, brown eyes of hers. "Watch the tail…" Her gaze darted over and narrowed on the two-toned swinging appendage. He drew the club back in time with it, swung it forward but didn't hit the ball and then repeated the action three more times. It probably looked like they were hugging, rocking back and forth. She relaxed, her body leaning up into him, her breathing slowing until it was in tune with his own. "And when you've finally got it, you just…" He brought the club down a little swifter then and the ball rolled forward, straight through the hole, past the tail, down the chute and out the end to roll perfectly into the hole. "See?"

"Yes," she breathed. Shaking her head, she cleared her throat. "I mean, yes, I do see. Thank you for your assistance." She stood a little straighter, stepping out of his embrace. She smiled up at him, eyes darting away, and he thought her cheeks were a little flushed. "Your turn."

"You wanna coach me?" he teased.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm sure I would have gotten it eventually."

"That's four tries, Rachel… I'm officially in the lead." He stepped up and took his turn, following his own instructions and sinking a hole in one. "Who's the pro?" He pumped his arms excitedly.

She laughed, trying to hide a smile as she shook her head and crossed to retrieve their balls. "Should McKinley ever make a mini-golf team, I have no doubt that you would captain it."

"That'd be sweet!" he agreed. "We could have matching shirts."

She nodded jubilantly. "In Avatar blue!"

They ventured over to the fourth course and continued their game. By the seventh hole, Sam was losing his easy streak and had fallen to one shot behind Rachel. Since she was happy, she hooked her arm with his and skipped to the next one. By the tenth they were tied again. She began listing foreign films that were playing and he started worrying. He really hated reading at movies. At the twelfth, a particularly hard one, he was in the lead again. She decided Peter Pan and his crew were simpletons and therefore she couldn't navigate their childish course. He gave her a piggy-back ride to cheer her up. Unfortunately, by the fourteenth hole, she was ahead by three. She got more and more affectionate the more she won, hugging his waist, squeezing his hand, and promising him she wouldn't think less of him if he gave in now. As they stood at the eighteenth and last, they were tied, with two putts each already.

She hovered close, peering around him and down to the hole. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather admit defeat? I promise not to think less of you as a mini-golfer or man in general."

He bit his lip, amused. "Comforting, Rachel, but I'm gonna win… And you and me are gonna watch some animated awesomeness this weekend."

She huffed. "Fine… But if we are, I demand that it be Rango."

He drew his club back and wondered, "Why?"

She leaned in close, her voice tickling his ear, "_Oh,_ the sound of his voice…" she said huskily.

His aim fell short as his shoulders slumped and he was thoroughly distracted. The ball swerved away, far from the hole. He was just lucky be managed not to throw the club in his distraction. Stupid Johnny Depp and his apparently awesome voice!

She squealed happily. "I hope you appreciate the fine acting of Javier Bardem, Sam, because _we _will enjoying it this weekend at Bieutiful!" Wiggling her hips, she lined up her shot. "Spanish is a lovely language; I'm sure you'll like it."

Uh, yeah, no. Just as she was about to shoot, he gripped her hip, leaned in and growled, "_No puedo esperar!_" (I can't wait!)

She breathed out shakily and lost control of her shot.

He smirked when she glared up at him.

"Not fair!"

He licked his lips, laughing. "Just following in your footsteps…"

"Yes, well." She stamped her foot. "Perhaps we should call a cease fire…" She fiddled with the end of her skirt. "Or else we might be here all night."

"Still having problems controlling all those urges you've got for me?" he teased.

She clucked her tongue, rolling her eyes. Putting her hands to her hips, she stepped up close to him, lifting up on her tip-toes and arching her back. "Would you really like to walk down this road, Sam?" She reached out and played with the collar of his shirt, letting her fingers skate across his Adam's apple. "I happen to be a _very_ invested actress and if pushed to keep distracting you, I can't promise where it might lead." She stared up at him from beneath long, dark lashes.

He hadn't realized how shallow his breathing was until she smoothed her hand down his chest and stepped away, casting him a half-smile.

"See?"

"Uh…" He swallowed thickly. "M-Maybe we should just take our shots…" He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging on the ends nervously. "First one in picks the movie and, uh, then we'll get something to eat." He cleared his throat. "Are you hungry? I-I'm really hungry." He touched his stomach, but mostly it was to calm the twisting inside.

"Yes! I really would like to find this vegan restaurant you looked up." She motioned to the golf club he hadn't realized he'd dropped. "Your turn."

He nodded, grabbing it up and walking to his ball. He clenched his teeth tight and tried to make his hands stop shaking. He just kept thinking about how her finger felt on his neck, how her nail scraped his skin lightly, how she smelled… God, was it ever good. And the _look _on her face… He shifted his feet, his jeans suddenly feeling a whole lot tighter. He narrowed his eyes on the hole and then drew his club back; distracted or not, he really didn't want to go to some foreign movie. He promised he'd watch it with her when it came out on DVD and then swung, landing the ball right in the whole. He grinned. Awesome.

She twisted her mouth to one side, like she wanted to argue. But then she shrugged. "Fine. I can be a good sport." She held her hand out for him to shake. "For someone who hasn't played in eight years, I submit that you have a natural talent!"

He grinned, shook her hand, and then used it to drag her over so he could hug her to his side. "Thanks for this… It was really fun."

Head against his shoulder, she turned it up to beam at him. "I'm glad!"

"Let's eat!" he said, nodding his head for them to go.

"Sure." They were a few feet away when she stopped, turned around and went back for the ball. "It's only polite," she explained before reaching over to take his hand as they left. They stopped at the booth and dropped off their gear before making their way out to the parking lot. She fairly skipped next to him. "It was the Peter Pan course I think that did it…" she sighed. "I'll have to get in some practice and then bring you back here for a thorough butt kicking."

He laughed. "Okay, Tiger Woods."

She stuck her tongue out at him before letting his hand go to circle the car. "Have you remembered the name of the restaurant?"

"Nope." He shook his head. "We'll just have to wing it."

Her brows furrowed worriedly. "I hope we don't need a reservation."

"If vegan food really that popular?"

"It _should _be," she argued, pursing her lips.

He climbed into the passenger seat, smiling to himself.

It took them ten minutes to find the place, exactly where he said it was; on eighth, next to the pizza place. It was small with low lighting and small, intimate tables. She scooped up her purse and smiled at him. "Finn always took me to BreadstiX or I had to get salads at the fast-food restaurants." She bumped his shoulder with hers. "Thank you for making an effort."

He grinned widely. It felt really awesome to know he did something nobody else did for her.

He put his hand on the small of her back as they walked inside, greeted by a server and pointed toward a table near the window. There were a few other people, mostly couples, and they were set up far enough away that it was all pretty quiet. Menus were handed out and Sam wasn't sure how much he'd actually like, but it all seemed a lot healthier than what he'd get anywhere else. She ordered tea to drink, fairly bouncing in her seat, and scanned the menu over and over. "I'm not sure I can pick," she murmured excitedly.

He laughed. "We can always come back."

Her eyes rose to meet his, bright with appreciation. "We can, can't we?"

He thought it might be the first time she believed he'd actually stick around and not ditch her for some reason. It made him both proud and sad. He didn't want to be like anybody who did that to her; the fact that he hung out with or sang with some of them kind of pissed him off. Maybe she could be annoying, but he thought it was just because she was different and didn't have a whole lot of social skills. Making friends was hard for her, so she probably didn't really know how to act around people her age. They took that and made her feel even worse. His brows furrowed, smile slipping. All those people he tried to impress, tried to be like, they were the people that made Rachel bring extra clothes to school so she'd have something to wear after she was slusheed. They were the people who made fun of her and brought her down and who she saw every single day and still kept her head up.

"Sam?" Her hand covered his, squeezing. She looked up at him worriedly. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he rasped, suddenly feeling really bad. "Yeah, no, I'm good." He nodded quickly.

"Are you sure?" She rubbed her hand across his. "Because you're really pale and you kind of appear to be on the verge of tears."

He laughed. Leave it to her to make it sound even more dramatic. "I'm fine. I just…" He licked his lips and stared down at the table. He turned her hand over in his and rubbed the palm with his thumb. "I'm not gonna leave you, okay?" He looked up at her. "I know we're new at this friendship thing, but… I'm loyal, or at least I try to be, and you're my friend. Probably my only one." He nodded. "Whatever happens, like with glee or Santana or—or just _anything_… I'm gonna be there."

She stared up at him, her brows furrowed. And then she nodded. "Okay."

He looked at her searchingly, needing her to believe him. "I am."

She smiled. "I know." She leaned in a little and told him, "Me too."

"Good…" He winked at her. "EvanBerry for the win."

She laughed, ducking her head. Changing the subject, she told him, "I think I'm going to try the eggplant in ginger sauce." She tucked her hair behind her ear and glanced up at him. "What appeals to you?"

Right then? _Her_. But she so wasn't on the menu, so he said, "Uh, the thing right under that?"

"Portuguese bean stew?" She nodded. "You'll have to let me try it."

"Sure. We can go half-and-half."

"Wonderful."

He didn't let go of her hand until their meals were brought to them, playing with her dainty little fingers and listening to her talk about her last dancing lesson. As he sat there, he thought maybe something had shifted. In a good way. Some part of him kind of felt like the whole night was practically a date. The excitement, the bet, the touching, the dinner… And the thing was, he liked it. He liked how comfortable it was with her, how nice it was to be himself. He didn't feel on edge like he did when he was with Quinn or Santana, like he was going to say something really nerdy and they'd call him out on it. He could just be regular lame Sam and she liked it. And he liked her. He liked that she talked too much and used really big words and that she was so easily affectionate with him. That she liked Avatar and wasn't afraid to say it, that she took an interest in his comic book and shared her song with him, that she was going to trust him to stand by her. He wanted to live up to that.

As the meal arrived, they split up each, asking for an extra bowl so she could have some of the stew. It surprised him how good it was. He'd kind of been expecting salads with no dressing. While she sipped her stew, she asked him about school.

He shrugged. "I still need to get my math up… It's always the worst."

"Because of your dyslexia?" she wondered, looking up at him without judgment.

"Partly… And it's just boring."

She chuckled. "I suppose it can be less than exciting, especially depending on who your teacher is." She wrinkled her nose. "I had a teacher once who was a nice man, really, but he ate tuna fish and onion sandwiches every single day for lunch. And so, when he came to my desk to look over my notes or to help me with my corrections, it was all I could smell each time he breathed." She shook her head. "It was absolutely disgusting, and _so_ distracting."

He nodded, frowning. "Gross."

"If you'd like, I can help tutor you in math," she offered. "I maintain an A average."

"Really?" He shrugged. "That'd be cool. Thanks."

She smiled. "Sure." She dabbed her mouth with her napkin and wondered, "So, have you given any thought to a back-up plan if your graphic novel idea doesn't work out?" She added, "If I become gravely injured or some other tragic mishap results in my forfeiting the Broadway stage – knock on wood—" She literally knocked her fist against the table. "I've decided I'd like to be a teacher… Dad and Daddy suggest I teach English, since I have such an exact way of speaking…"

"I can see that." He grinned. "I guess, if I can't draw, I'd like to help people… Like a paramedic maybe." He shrugged.

She beamed happily. "I think you would do the heroics service a great justice."

He chuckled. "You really would make an awesome English teacher."

She held up her cross-fingers. "Broadway first, barring any horrific tragedy."

He nodded, pursing his lips to hide a smile and knocked his fist on the table for her. "Of course."

The restaurant was empty save for them by the time they'd finished eating. They were offered a dessert menu but Rachel was already moaning that she was stuffed. "Oh, but they have tiramisu, Sam…" she sighed.

He half-rolled his eyes. "We'll come back, Rach. When you're not about to burst."

"That was really wonderful stew… If you weren't here, I might lick the bowl clean."

He laughed, standing up from the table. "I'm gonna get the check. I'll meet you by the—"

"You absolutely will not," she argued, standing from her seat. "We'll split it."

"Rachel…" he sighed.

She stared up at him stubbornly.

"My gram _ordered _me to buy you dinner…" His brows hiked high for emphasis. "You really wanna go against my grandma?"

"Seeing as I haven't met her and thus far the only information I've gathered is that she's very protective and seems to have a strong suspicion that you or I are drug dealers or users, I can't say that it matters much yet." She put her hands on her hips. "So I will have to ask - _nay, _demand!" She stomped her foot. "That you let me pay for my half of the meal."

He pursed his lips. "If you can get it, you can pay half." When she was going to ask what he meant, he held the bill high above his head and raised his brow challengingly.

"Sam Evans!" she cursed, glaring at him and then up at the offending slip of paper. "I will have you know…" She walked over and grabbed a chair, carrying it back to him. "I may be short, but I make up for it with sheer _tenacity!_" She stood up on the chair and leaned, resting a hand on his shoulder for support while her other one reached far for the paper he continued to hold away from her. And when she got close, he simply dropped his arm low so she could no longer get it. "This happens to be very childish and—"

Amused, he tugged her forward so she lost her balance, shrieking in surprise when he caught her with his free arm wrapped around her waist. She was so _light_. Her knees lifted, legs locking around his waist automatically.

"That-You-I-!" she sputtered.

He grinned. "_My treat!_" he told her.

She huffed and he imagined if her arms weren't around his neck, she'd cross them over her chest. "_Fine._ But I'm paying next time." She stuck her nose up into the air.

"Sure." He looked away and back before he asked, "Comfortable?"

She glanced down and then flushed. "Oh, right, um…" Her hands squeezed his shoulders as she loosened her legs and slowly slid down his frame to stand once more. His arm was still slung around her waist, keeping her close. "You're… exceedingly tall," she murmured.

"Six feet, which is average I think." He smirked. "You're just tiny."

Her eyes thinned. "_Petite!_"

Before he could bug her anymore, a throat was cleared and they turned to see the waitress waiting, smiling in amusement at them.

Flushing, Rachel stepped back and smoothed out her clothes. "I'll be in the car," she declared, turning on her heel and retreating.

Chuckling after her, Sam walked to the cash register to pay.

"You're cute together," the waitress said, taking his money and counting out his change. "How long have you been dating?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing out the window and then back. "Oh, uh, we're not. We're… just friends."

She raised a disbelieving brow but handed him his money. "Have a good night then."

"Yeah, um, you too…" He waved absently as he left, his brows furrowed.

When he climbed into the car, Rachel looked over. "Ready to go home?"

He nodded, but part of him thought it'd be cool to hang out awhile longer. When he checked the time though, he realized it was getting late. His gram was probably going to be worried. He hadn't realized how long they'd spent in the restaurant, just eating and talking, and he still had homework to do. She hummed along to the radio as she drove, her fingers tapping to the beat.

"Hey Rach?"

"Yes?" She glanced at him.

"Is it weird for you?" he asked. At her frown, he added, "Like, pretending to date me?"

"Oh." She tipped her head thoughtfully. "Not really." She smiled, shrugging her shoulders. "I find it rather easy."

He nodded. "Me too."

"It's nice… Being able to hold somebody's hand or speak freely with them… Sometimes, I just didn't know what to say to Finn. I think we discussed glee nine times out of ten and all of our other conversations seemed one-sided." Her brows furrowed, like she was just realizing it. "When he spoke about sports, I listened, of course, but… He didn't ask for input and I suppose I stopped trying to give any. And… When I discussed Broadway or New York or the Tony's…" She shook her head. "He stopped listening, just nodding."

Sam pursed his lips. "You don't talk about that with me… I mean yeah, you bring up Broadway or like New York, but you just kind of mention it sometimes…" Was it weird that it kind of worried him?

She smiled softly. "I know… I guess I have more to talk about with you." She looked over at him. "You're very easy to relate to Sam."

"Yeah?" He shook his head. "'Cause my last two girlfriends mostly told me what was and wasn't cool to talk about." Football, glee, and them. That pretty much nailed down their conversations.

"Well I think speaking on a variety of topics and being able to share your innermost thoughts are vital to any relationships, be it friendship or something more intimate." She nodded swiftly. "You know, Sam, I love Broadway and I love singing and I plan to make a career out of it that will blot out all others before it. Except Babs because I have too much respect for her to allow her to wilt even in _my _shadow. But… I rather like that with you, I can be more than those things. More than just Rachel the future Broadway star." She grinned at him genuinely. "I can just be Rachel, teenager and friend."

"I like that too."

"Good."

"Cool."

When she pulled into his driveway, his gram hopped up to look out the window.

"It's a good thing this isn't a date or our first kiss would be witnessed by your grandmother," she said, chuckling.

"She'd probably accuse you of passing me drugs through your mouth…"

"I happen to think my kiss would be very drugging to your senses, Sam Evans," she told him, with dramatic fake haughtiness.

He laughed. "Good to know."

She turned in her seat to smile at him. "Would you like me to pick you up for school tomorrow?"

"Sure." He nodded. "Hey, maybe we could talk to Mr. Shue about your song… I mean, we don't have to show it to him yet, but we should bring up doing an original song at Regionals." He looked up at her earnestly. "I know you already tried, but you didn't really get any support then, so…" He shrugged. "Maybe with me there to say something too, it'll go down differently."

She turned her eyes away, thinking it over. "Well, he was pretty anxious today and I think it had to do with glee… Perhaps he's begun to realize that our previous song of choice just won't cut it." She nodded. "We'll bring it up to him tomorrow then. Perhaps corner him in his classroom, that way we don't have to voice our opinion in front of the whole club and have them shoot it down."

"Okay." He grinned. "I'll see you tomorrow." Before he could think too much on it, he leaned over and kissed her cheek. He lingered a second, breathing in the soft scent of her hair, before pulling back and shoving the car door open. His stomach was doing that weird twisty thing again and he felt all flustered and out of breath. She looked up at him as he waved, closing the door. He looked back as he was crossing his lawn to the house and she smiled. He almost tripped over the lawn hose, but managed _not _to look like too much of an ass. He was really glad it was so dark, so she couldn't see him blushing bright red. She didn't back out until he'd walked through the door of his house, honking once in goodbye. He was grinning widely as he closed the door, wondering how lame it was that he wanted to tell his grandma all about it. He really needed some guy friends.

"Well, that was embarrassing to watch," a snarky voice said from behind him.

Sam pivoted, eyes wide as he found Santana Lopez on his couch, sharing tea with his grandma.

Maybe Tina got it right and they really were all in some Twilight Zone, 'cause this? So not normal.

He didn't realize he was humming the theme to the Twilight Zone show until Santana rolled her eyes at him. "Geek," she said, a hint of a smile saying it was at least kind of fond.

"What… Uh, what are you doing… here?" he stumbled, confused.

"Sam," his grandma admonished. "Where's your manners?"

"Maybe he left them in Rachel's car," Santana suggested, smirking.

He frowned. "I thought… I mean, I thought we were good. 'Cause it was your idea, right? Me and Rachel… I…" He was really confused and a little worried. 'Cause Santana? Tiny bit crazy. And not in that weirdly adorable way Rachel was, no. She was what Puck referred to as, 'bitch so crazy, she'll cut you just for a laugh.' He'd thought he was joking; now he wasn't so sure.

She rolled her eyes; maybe he wasn't masking his fear well enough. "Can we talk?" she asked, eyes darting from his grandma and then back to him. "Alone?"

Wait, that meant no witnesses…

She looked really upset though. Or like vulnerable. She was shifting in her seat and she didn't look like she was about to claw his eyes out, so he thought maybe this could be a good thing. "O…kay…"

He really hoped this didn't end in blood shed…

[**Next**: Chapter V.]


	6. Chapter V

**Title**: All These Labels  
**Category**: Glee  
**Genre**: Humor/Romance  
**Ship**: Rachel/Sam  
**Rating**: Teen (subject to change)  
**Warning(s)**: Spoilers for Sexy and the **promo** to Original Song  
**Word Count**: 6,145  
**Summary**: When Santana asked Rachel to distract Sam she had no idea what it would lead to. But it certainly surpassed her expectations and more.

**_All These Labels_**  
-Novel-

**V. **

Rachel was practically dancing as she walked into her house. Vibrating with excitement and energy, she fairly skipped toward the stairs.

"Hey Bunny," her daddy called out in greeting.

She turned, grinning widely. "Good evening, daddies!" she greeted fondly, and with great drama.

They exchanged a look and then smiled at her. "How was your date?"

"My _outing _was perfectly wonderful!" She knotted her hands together and wandered into the living room. "We went mini-golfing, where I would like two things noted. One, the lighting in the parking lot and adjacent street were completely unsafe and I believe a letter asking for change should be written to our city officials. Secondly, whether a boy hasn't played mini-golf in eight years apparently has no consequence as Sam happened to still play a very rousing game, beating me in the end and winning our bet, subsequently claiming title to superior mini-golfer…" She pursed her lips and added, "_For now_."

Her dad chuckled under his breath. "And what did this bet consist of, dear?"

"Which movie we'd be seeing this weekend." She sighed dramatically, taking a seat on the loveseat. "Whether Sam is just a wonderful golfer or simply wanted so desperately not to see a foreign film remains unseen… In the end, I will be enjoying the animated cinematic marvel titled Rango, starring one Johnny Depp!"

"That sounds nice. Kind of tame for a bet…" Hiram glanced at his shorter, whiter husband and grinned excitedly. "It's great to hear that you'll be spending more time with this beau of yours too." He raised his brows. "She's been moping since Finn, hasn't she dear?"

Leroy nodded. "Definitely moping."

Rachel scoffed. "First, while the reward in the bet was tame, yes, it was a matter of pride that we played for. Which is why I would like it known that he only beat me by _one _shot." She stuck her forefinger into the air with purpose. "And he's not my _beau_… He's my _friend_…" She frowned. "Lastly, I have not been moping; I don't appreciate the connotations." She crossed her arms over her chest and nodded her head sharply.

"Now she's pouting," Hiram said, reaching over to tap her nose with his finger affectionately. "Don't worry, Bunny. We're only teasing."

"The thing is…" Her shoulders slumped. "I really like Sam." She looked up at them with wide eyes. "He's the first boy I've really found myself comfortable with. As myself, anyway. Because as much as I loved Finn, I can't help but think that he didn't always appreciate me in my natural form… Which is to say, I wasn't like girls our age and I think he wished I was." Her brows furrowed. "But Sam seems to like me just the way I am and I think that's a great starting point to begin our strong and hopefully very long friendship."

"And if feelings should arise?"

"What Sam and I feel for each other is completely platonic…" She stared down at her skirt, smoothing it out with her palms and picking at non-existent loose threads. "He's just recently broken up with Quinn, whom he was in love with, and whom cheated on him with none other than Finn." Her eyes narrowed, but in that moment she couldn't be sure if she was angry because Finn was with Quinn or if because Quinn had hurt Sam. "And then, sadly, Sam tried to rebound with Santana, who only just realized that she was in love with someone else… a_ girl_."

Leroy's eyes widened. "Oh." He chuckled a little under his breath and raised a hand to his cover his mouth.

"Dad!" she cried, outraged on her new friend's behalf. "This is _not _funny! Poor Sam! He's been truly heartbroken and quite likely lost all trust for women in general."

"No, no, of course not…" He pursed his lips to hide his amusement. "Although, you have to admit, he hasn't had much luck with girls, has he?"

She shook her head woefully. "Which is why I'm going to be different," she told them firmly.

"Rachel…" he sighed knowingly.

"I'm going to show him that women can be loyal, they can appreciate you for all your quirks and differences, and they can be better than either of his ex-girlfriends has shown him." Her eyes thinned with stubborn tenacity.

"In a completely platonic way, no doubt?" her daddy said, his voice teasing.

"Well, _yes!_" She fiddled with the end of her skirt some more. "He's very handsome… And sweet… Charming, too." She glanced over at them and then frowned. "But I think I need to spend my time focusing on my career and Regionals… Sam and I have a nice new friendship broadening before us and I don't care if my heart tends to skip a beat when he's near!" She threw her finger into the air pointedly. "Or that when he takes my hand, my skin gets warm! Or when he kisses my cheek, I lose my breath!" She shook her head and stomped her foot. "Sam and I will be friends and we will be happy, goddamnit!" Gasping, she covered her own mouth. "Oh my!"

Leroy Berry laughed. "Such a little spitfire… You know, you probably wouldn't be this worked up if—"

"Don't say it." She pursed her lips, rose from her seat and turned on her heel. "I've made my point and I'm sticking to it!"

"All right, dear."

"I want to meet him!" her daddy called happily, shifting in his seat. "My little Bunny, falling in love with a _real _boy."

Her brows furrowed as she halted at the stairs and reminded him, "Finn wasn't Pinocchio, daddy… And Sam isn't what I would call the direct opposite."

He scoffed, waving his hand. "That boy was as wooden as they come, sweetie. And it's too bad his nose _didn't _grow when he lied or you would have saved yourself some heartache." He shook his head. "I know you don't want to hear it, but I'm glad he's gone."

She sighed, shoulders slumping. It wasn't so long ago that she might fight him on that fact; tell him Finn would be back or that it was just a matter of time until he realized they were destined. Today, she didn't bother with either of those arguments. Instead, she said, "I appreciate your input, both of you, but I think I'm going to go upstairs, take a nice long shower, and get some homework done."

"You've eaten dinner?" her dad wondered worriedly.

"Yes." She smiled wistfully. "Sam took me to a vegan restaurant downtown. It was really wonderful! We've agreed we'll have to return, if only for the tiramisu." She waved at them before climbing up the stairs, some of her earlier jubilation returning.

"Did you hear that?" Hiram wondered. "They're going _back_… Like on another _date!_"

"Don't push her, dear… Let her figure this one out on her own…"

"Fine…" he sighed. "I'll give her one week and then I'm showing up at the school and looking for the boy who put _that _smile on our little girl's face."

"You're such a meddler."

Rachel rolled her eyes, clucking her tongue before she walked down the hall and into her bedroom. She took a deep breath and let it out on a sigh. Kicking off her flats, she searched her closet for a pair of pajamas, settling on the pink and white candy striped ones and laying them down on her bed. A long, hot shower later, after belting out a few Babs songs, she came back out in her fluffy yellow towel to dress in her pj's. She still had homework to go over and her emails to check. She had thought to make a MySpace video but the hour was already rather late. She decided that if she finished her homework in time, she'd set everything up and go for it anyway. It was probably better done when she was in such a good mood, too.

Opening her laptop, she brought up her English homework and ran a spell check. She was already going over song choices in her head; something bright and exciting, maybe another Katy Perry song since Firework had been so well received. She wanted to put all of the joy she'd felt this evening into one huge rendition of something. She hadn't felt so alive since… well, _ever_. Yes, it was just mini-golf and a meal, but she thought perhaps it was something more. Something like _acceptance_. While others might feel uncomfortable being seen with her in public, or shoot down her veganism in favor of fast food, or not want to make any cement-sure plans to spend more time with her in future, Sam wasn't like that. He'd promised her in no uncertain terms that they were going to be friends for a good long time. And she couldn't be happier for the fact. Sure, her parents seemed to think there could be something romantic there and, well, she couldn't say she didn't feel the spark… It was there. Every time his fingers touched hers or he kissed her cheek or he said something so genuine and sweet, she felt a little bit of her melt. But she had to stay strong, because she couldn't fall for Sam Evans. He was to be her friend. And she his. He'd had enough turmoil in relationships as it was and she didn't want to add to the pile.

That was that.

Since her email opened automatically, she immediately noticed the excessively high amount of mail she'd received. Brows furrowed, she clicked on the link to open it and stared at the long list. Some were on her MySpace videos while others were Facebook wall notifications or private messages, and a few of them were just written directly to her personal email. And all of them were the same. She started at the top and worked her way down, aside from a brief email from Mr. Shue reminding everybody about the moved glee meeting, Rachel Berry had seventy-three comments, and all of them were hate-mail.

At first, it hadn't hurt.

At first, she wasn't even surprised.

At first, she chalked it up to her usual life as a misinterpreted ingénue who would one day be the bright star on Broadway that none of these miscreants could ever hope to resemble.

And then her resolve broke.

And then her eyes stung.

And then her hands shook and her lip trembled and—

She gave up after email number twenty-six, in which she was referred to a she-male that nobody would ever love, and finally closed her email.

Gritting her teeth, she wiped swiftly at her wet cheeks, mopping her eyes of the burning, salty tears. She'd known, of course, that the school would assume her a man stealer, a Jezebel, a home wrecker; the fact that it was yet another football player from what used to be a popular cheerleader didn't help. Her shoulders slumped along with her once bright mood. It would all be over in three days, she told herself. Thursday, they would have their "break-up" and then the emails would strike up again, this time in a 'told you so' manner, and then it would all fade back to usual. Where she would only receive about a third of what she had today, all calling her names and telling her to just give up already, that she sucked in general, and none of it related to the fact that she would never be good enough for any guy, let alone Sam Evans.

She didn't make a video that night.

She did her homework, drank a _lot_ of water, and went to bed early.

Tomorrow, she would be brave and strong and she would stand up in the face of adversity. Tonight, she would cry herself to sleep.

…

Sam motioned for Santana to follow him and then started climbing the stairs. When he got to his room, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and just waited. He and Santana had mostly been a physical couple. Like she didn't want to sit around and talk about, well, anything really. When he started talking, she told him to stop flapping his big lips and put them to better use. And it worked, most of the time, 'cause what dude would turn down making out? But now he was feeling really awkward. 'Cause they'd always hung out at her place, partly because his grandma was really nosy but also because he didn't think she'd ever stop teasing him about his room. There was an Avatar poster on his wall and a whole lot of comic books and even some action figures still in their original packaging. Sure, there was also sports gear and some weights, but all he kept thinking was she was going to start calling him a geek-loser any second and he'd never live it down.

She briefly glanced over his room, wrinkled her nose, and then sat down at the edge of his bed and leaned back casually, like she owned the place. "So your grandma said you were out with Berry…" She glanced up at him, brow raised. "Pretty good show you put on at school… If I didn't know better, I'd have thought you were really into the midget."

Despite the fact that she didn't say it with a whole lot of malice – and whoa, when'd he learn _that _word? – he felt defensive almost immediately. He frowned at her. "Don't do that."

She cocked a dark brow at him, sneering, "Do _what?_"

"Talk about her like that… Like it's okay to call her names…" He shuffled away from her, looking anywhere but at her face. Because yeah, he'd decided he was going to be better than how everyone else was with Rachel, but Santana kind of scared him. In that lethal claw out his eyes and make him eat them kind of way. Man, he seriously had to quit watching the Space channel at night. It made him weird…_er_.

"Unbelievable," she muttered. "Y'know, I figured I'd come over here and like, I dunno, apologize for making you put up with the little dwarf, but _obviously_, like every other guy she pays any attention to, she's got you wrapped around her finger!"

His jaw ticked before he snapped, "Santana, _seriously_, I don't even know why you're here! You didn't _want _me, remember?" He stared at her with wide eyes. "You convinced me giving up Quinn was the right thing to do, and yeah, maybe you were right, but I seem to remember you telling me that I'd have _you_…" He threw his hands up. "And then you're asking Rachel for help to distract me 'cause apparently you don't want me touching you anymore…" He licked his lips, looking away. "And I get it, okay? I'm not…" He sighed, shifting a hand through his hair, irritated. "I'm not going to tell the school about whatever is going on with you and Brittany, because that's _your _business. But don't…" He stared at her eriously. "Don't talk about Rachel like that, all right? Because she's doing you a favor, a big one. And she's my— I'm her _friend_ and I don't care if you think that's like, stupid or lame or if you wanna call me a geek or a loser or whatever…"

She stared up at him, her shoulders slouched. "How long've you been holding _that _in?" she scoffed.

He sighed, shaking his head. "Whatever," he muttered.

She shifted, leaning forward and playing with her fingers in her lap. She mumbled something, but he didn't catch it, so he just stared at her, brow raised. "I said _I'm sorry!_" She shoved up to her feet and paced. "_Okay?_" She cursed in Spanish, glaring at him like he'd _made _her apologize. "Sorry if I led you on or picked on your girlfriend or I'm in love with a girl who doesn't want me and I can't—I can't _stand _to have you and your _boy hands _touching me!" Her hands fisted and she growled angrily, mostly to herself. "You're a good guy and the truth is… Even if I didn't want Britt, I'd chew you up and spit you out and I probably wouldn't even think twice about it…" She shook her head, looking away. "But then Britt wanted to talk feelings and I realized… I love her. I _really_…" Her eyes filled with tears. "And I don't-I don't want you or any other guy, so I just… I went to Berry because she's really good at this kind of thing, y'know?" She sniffled. "Boys like her. I don't know _why_, but they do. Maybe it doesn't really _last_…" She rolled her eyes. "But I just needed her to get you off me or gimme a reason to dump you…" She glared, clenching her teeth as she wiped at her eyes quickly. "But it wasn't like… it wasn't _you_. It was me." She snorted at the overused line. "And I really mean that."

He half-smiled. "I know. And it's…" He shrugged. "Okay." He laughed under his breath. "You can't choose who you love…" He looked away bitterly.

"Hey… Uh…" Santana looked away, uncomfortable. "Look, about this whole you dating Berry thing…" She rolled her eyes. "You know that's gonna blow up in your face, right?" She arched a brow at him. "I mean, if you're doing it to get back at Quinn or like, make her jealous—"

"Why do people keep _thinking _that?" he sighed, exasperated.

She smirked sadly. "She's _Quinn_…" She shrugged. "It's just how it goes."

"I _like _Rachel," he told her firmly. "She's funny and cool and she doesn't think I'm some giant loser…"

She nodded. "Probably because _she's _a giant loser."

"_Santana…_"

"No, listen, all right?" She snapped her fingers in his face and cocked her hip, regaining all her bitchiness just like that. "Berry's not my friend and most of the time… I don't even _like _her." Before he could interrupt, she shook her head. "But she's doing me a solid with all this, 'cause she sure as hell didn't have to do me any favors, not after all the shit I've done to her…" Her eyes darted away. "But she is and so are you, so I'm gonna give you guys some friendly advice… You wanna be friends, keep it out of McKinley. You wanna fall _madly_ in love and make pretty babies that can sing and have big noses, you wait until you're in New York. 'Cause around here, you two are gonna get stepped on, _a lot_…" She scoffed. "You think Quinn is gonna just let it go that Rachel 'the freak' Berry got _another _of her boys? That's three for three, Sammy-boy… She will cut a bitch, legit." She stared at him seriously. "And maybe you think Berry's worth it or you're riding on some high horse because you're not like the rest of us… but I _guarantee _that you'll be looking for an exit when the footballers slushee you for being Berry's little bitch."

His jaw clenched as he stared at her. "You done?"

She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned. "You think I'm doing this to hurt you or be a bitch, but I'm not. I _did_ like you, Sam…" She stared at him searchingly. "I just loved somebody else more."

He nodded, looking away.

Staring at him a minute longer, she finally turned to leave.

"San?" he called after her.

"Yeah?"

He glared at her back. "She _is _worth it."

"Probably…" She laughed shortly, emotionlessly. "But this is high school and we're all just trying to survive."

She left, closing the door behind her.

Sighing, Sam sunk down to sit on his bed, bowing his head in his hands. If that was Santana's apology, she really had to work on it. He laughed bitterly under his breath and threw himself back against the bed. He'd gone from having a really awesome night, to wondering what the hell he was going to do. Rachel was his friend and she was… awesome. But the rest of McKinley didn't see that or even_ want_ to see that and that meant that Sam was different, that he was out of the loop. And sure, talking about how he didn't care about being popular, it seemed easy. When it was just talk. When it was just him and Rachel, being honest and not worrying about everybody else. But now he had to go to school tomorrow and they all thought he was dating her, that he'd walked away from _Santana _for her, and there would be questions and razzing and maybe even slushee-facials and…

Was he strong enough for that?

He paced his room for ten minutes, worked out for an hour, but his mind was still screwed up. Things were all just so backwards. Rachel was a good person but for some reason all the bad people, the bullies and the jocks and the douches that thought it was okay to make her feel bad about being herself, they're the ones who made the rules. That couldn't just be his dyslexia, not if the whole damn school was so wrong. At his old school, he was mostly invisible. It wasn't a bad kind of invisible, really. It was just lonely. He didn't get picked on or singled out, he was just overlooked. He was nothing special. He wasn't cool or uncool, he was just there. He played a few sports, he had his comic books, and he just blended right in. When he got McKinley, he wanted to stand out. He wanted to be noticed and liked and he thought a new school would help with that. So he changed his hair a bit and he got better clothes and he dated the prettiest cheerleader and he even got quarterback for awhile. And now he was in glee, he had no girlfriend, he was friends with the school's social pariah and everything he thought he wanted seemed like the worst idea ever.

He sat on the floor, his entire body vibrating, every muscle on fire. Sweat poured down his skin and soaked his shirt, but it didn't matter how many sit ups or push ups he did or how many weights he lifted, he couldn't stop wondering if he was just going to hurt Rachel too. If when he got to school and they called him a freak or they threw that slushee, if he'd just walk away and take the easy route. What if he really was like all of them? What if leaving her made more sense than going through all that? She'd made it without him before, she'd do it now. After graduation, she'd go to New York and she'd make it big and everybody else would be stuck here in Lima, resenting her, just like Puck said.

He frowned.

Only what was being liked if the person he was wasn't even him. What was the point of being cool if the only person he actually felt cool around wasn't allowed to be his friend? Why did the idea that one day Rachel Berry would look back on high school and lump him with everybody else actually make him a little physically sick?

Standing on shaky legs, he crossed to wear he'd dropped his backpack and unzipped it, moving books and homework around until he found what he was looking for. The pages were wrinkled, which he thought was okay since they were just reprints anyway, and her scratch outs and rewrites were scribbled all over, but her lyrics were legible. He sat back against the side of his bed and pulled his guitar into his lap. He picked at the chords and sang the lyrics under his breath, tapping his foot to an unheard beat. He remembered the way she sang, with such gusto and passion, her every expression matching her big voice and all the feeling she put into it. He strummed the guitar harder, finding the tune he liked, tweaking it here or there. He nodded his head, his lips drawing up in a grin as he started to really feel it. And finally, he belted it out…

_Yeah, you may think that I'm a zero  
But, hey, everyone you wanna be  
Probably started off like me  
You may say that I'm a freak-show  
But, hey, give me just a little time  
I bet you're gonna change your mind_

_All of the dirt you've been throwin' my way  
It ain't so hard to take, that's right  
'Cause I know one day you'll be screamin' my name  
And I'll just look away, that's right…_

_Just go ahead and hate on me and run your mouth  
So everyone can hear  
Hit me with the words you got and knock me down  
Baby, I don't care  
Keep it up, I'm tunin' up to fade you out  
You wanna be  
You wanna be  
A loser like me…  
A loser like me…_

His hands stopped, slapping down against the chords to keep them still as he breathed out a long breath. Losers like _us_. He nodded, knowing it was true. Maybe he wasn't _better _than the others and maybe Santana was right and the school was going to throw him under a bus, but… He wasn't like them anyway. He didn't want to _be _like them. He liked Sam, the Avatar-loving, dyslexic comic book geek who was friends with Rachel Berry… He grabbed up the papers and started writing in music notes, scratching some out and working it over until he got it right. He kept at it until it was nearly midnight and he was rubbing his eyes of sleep.

Tomorrow, he'd have the music to Rachel's song, he'd walk through the halls with her hand held firmly in his, he'd tell the school and the football team and anybody else who questioned it to go to hell. And even if it sucked, even if he got slusheed or thrown in a dumpster or whatever it was they planned to do, he knew he'd be _happy_. Because up until the time he was with Rachel, all the other things he was doing, for Quinn or Santana, hadn't been fun, they hadn't made him happy. They just made him popular, made it okay for them to date him. But now, Sam Evans was going be himself and he was going to _like _himself, and he didn't care what that made him.

He fell asleep grinning.

…

Rachel was oddly silent when she picked Sam up the next morning. She knew she was being quieter than usual, which was to say quiet _at all_, but she was working up the courage needed to walk through school with her head held high. She hadn't told Sam about the emails and she didn't think she would. The last thing she wanted to do was scare him off with the excessive dislike from the student body. She understood that he had a noble streak, that he was willing to stand by her side and take the ridicule and brush it off like it was nothing, but he hadn't yet witnessed what it was like. Perhaps yesterday the students had been too surprised to do anything, to _say _anything, but if her emails had been any kind of sign, it was that they were up to date and willing to react now.

For a long moment, she wondered if Carrie White hadn't been lucky to be blessed with her telekinetic abilities and was thus able to battle her tormentors; sure, the result was a little… extreme. But who ever said Rachel Berry wasn't the epitome of _extreme? _Unfortunately, even the nice boy who ended up appreciating Carrie despite all her weird died in the end of that movie… and she couldn't do that to Sam. Not, of course, that she was about to destroy the whole school with her mind... She had some psychic abilities, but she didn't think they were anything so severe. And she supposed if she _did _have a super power of some kind, it would have something to do with her superior voice… She wondered if Sam might know of a superhero with that kind of ability. Wouldn't that be exciting?

"You okay?" Sam asked.

Startled out of her thoughts, she jumped a little. Her eyes darted to him and she pasted on a smile. "Oh, yes, I-I'm just distracted."

His brows furrowed. "You sure? 'Cause you're biting your lip pretty hard, I'm surprised it's not bleeding…"

She licked her lip, felt how swollen it was and cleared her throat. "I suppose I'm just a little worried about how we might be greeted."

"We can take it," he told her, his voice oddly strong, like he'd prepared himself for just that occasion.

She wondered if perhaps he too had been berated by their peers via email or something similar.

"Yes, of course," she agreed automatically.

"No, Rachel…" He reached over, his hand falling on her knee and squeezing.

Her eyes darted down and then to his face. This couldn't be considered safe driving; not when all she could focus on was his fingers curled around her knee. She forced her eyes back to the road and swallowed tightly. Why did it feel like little fireworks were exploding beneath her skin?

"I know you're worried about what they'll say…" He stared at her searchingly. "I'm gonna be there with you. They're saying it to me, too. Okay?"

That shouldn't comfort her, she thought. She shook her head. "The last thing I want is for you to be dragged into my situation."

"Your situation is that you're getting bullied…" His brows rose with emphasis. "Like _all _the time. And it's not fair or okay and you shouldn't think it is."

She knew he was right; there were a million different sites online that said bullying was wrong, _hate _was wrong. But living it every day, a person just got used to it. "I don't. I just…" She sighed. "I've talked to school officials, to the principal; I've brought it up with my teachers…" She shook her head. "Nothing _changes_, Sam…"

His jaw ticked, brows falling heavy over his eyes. "Well it's gonna be different today…"

Her nose wrinkled. "How?"

"'Cause I'm gonna be there… And maybe I can't take on the whole school, but I'll take all of them on one by one if I have to…" He smiled at her lightly. "Nobody picks on my girlfriend, fake or not."

She laughed slightly, looking over at him softly. Her heart seemed to swell; with relief or appreciation or a combination of the two, she couldn't be sure. "Thank you. I appreciate your heroic streak, Sam." She grinned. "I think, if for some reason that your career in graphic novels does not work out, that you really would make a great paramedic, or something else in that same field of life saving."

He nodded. "Thanks, Rach."

She pulled her car into the McKinley parking lot and found a spot next to Noah's beat-up old truck. She climbed out and with each step she felt her confidence build. She pulled her pink trolley from the trunk and circled her Prius to stand with Sam, taking a deep breath. "Just so you know…" She looked up at him. "It's an honor to be your fake girlfriend."

He laughed, ducking his head slightly, blond bangs falling into his eyes attractively. He tugged back and forth on the drawstrings of his hoodie. "You're pretty good at it."

"I would hope so," she agreed. "After all, you did pick me over Santana Lopez. A rare feat, I believe." She didn't have it in her _not _to boast!

He hooked one of his hands in hers as they began walking toward the school. "She was at my place last night," he told her. "After you left."

"Really?" There was a funny sort of weight in her stomach, leaden, that reminded her of the feeling she used to get when Finn paid attention to any girl that wasn't her. But that was a silly notion, she argued. Because she had no reason to be jealous that Santana was at Sam's house.

"Yeah… She wanted to apologize." His brows furrowed, showing her that the idea confused him. "She didn't do such a great job, but I got the gist of it, I think…"

"Which was?"

"That it didn't really have anything to do with me… That it was just her having feelings for Brittany…" His eyes darted around and his voice quieted as he tried to keep that piece of information between them. For all that his last two relationships had been unkind to him, it really was very nice of him to keep Santana's secret and to go to such lengths, as well.

They walked through the doors and into the hallway, their hands swinging lightly between them. Funny how the swipe of his thumb along hers made her want to smile. She glanced down, seeing how her tanned skin melded with his milky white; odd that it looked so right. His fingertips were a little coarse against her much softer skin; she chalked it up to the fact that he played guitar. She really liked it. She liked a lot of things about him, she thought. Sometimes, his forefinger tapped to a beat she didn't recognize off-hand. She felt acutely aware of every little thing he did and it made her stomach flip-flop. With resolve, she told herself to calm down, to focus on his words not his actions. Friends didn't get so caught up in physical gestures… Did they? She shook her head.

"That makes sense…" She looked up at him. "I hope you weren't taking it personally… I don't believe homosexuality or bisexuality or whatever you might want to call it so much a _choice_… I think it's simply a _part _of a person… Santana was obviously very comfortable with exploring the lines of intimacy with both men and women and as it happened, she fell in love with a girl. I don't think that's completely her choice, as proven by the fact that she's truly scared about what people might think of it and can't accept it about herself. If it were a choice, couldn't she just turn it off?" She didn't wait for his answer. "She loves Brittany and while I'm sure Brittany loves Artie, I think she loves Santana as well."

His brows furrowed. "So she loves Artie _more?_"

"Perhaps differently…" She tipped her head thoughtfully. "Brittany too doesn't have a preference for any specific gender, but she fell in love with Artie as a person. And she's always had a connection with Santana. I think she wanted to explore it and that brought a revelation upon Santana that she may not have been ready for… Or she's not sure everybody _else _is ready for it." She squeezed his hand. "I think the only thing we can do is support her during her confusion and supply an ear should she need to talk."

"You know she'd probably tell the whole school if you were in her place, right?" he asked, staring down at her uncertainly.

She smiled up at him. "That's a possibility… Thankfully, I've never really questioned my sexuality, so I haven't had to deal with that confusion. But because of my dads, I think I have a better understanding of it than some." She leaned into him a little. "Santana may not be my favorite person and I'm sure I'm not hers… But she needs friends right now and I think we're the closest she might have to them. Especially if she's feeling insecure around Brittany."

He half-frowned. "So we're gonna be friends with Santana Lopez?"

"We're going to _try!_" She beamed proudly, feeling as though a great breakthrough was in their future.

He smiled. "All right… If that's what you wanna do…" He wiggled his brows at her. "But if she kills one or both of us, I'm blaming _you…_"

She scoffed. "Should I die under the hand of your ex-girlfriend, I ask _only_ that you make me out to be a martyr for the cause, spend your life missing me, and possibly become a well known icon in the music industry if only to keep my spirit alive…" She smirked. "I don't think I'm being unreasonable at all."

He shrugged. "Sure, I'll just live as a monk and make you a shrine in my basement, right next to my Avatar war paint and first edition comic books."

She giggled, shaking her head. "A true friend you are, Sam Evans."

"I try," he agreed.

Laughing, they walked to her locker, blissfully content to pretend the rest of their day would be so easy.

If only that were true.

[**Next**: Chapter VI.]


	7. Chapter VI

**Title**: All These Labels  
**Category**: Glee  
**Genre**: Humor/Romance  
**Ship**: Rachel/Sam  
**Rating**: Teen (subject to change)  
**Warning(s)**: Spoilers for Sexy and the **promo** to Original Song  
**Word Count**: 6,414  
**Summary**: When Santana asked Rachel to distract Sam she had no idea what it would lead to. But it certainly surpassed her expectations and more.

**_All These Labels_**  
-Novel-

**VI**.

It was first period and the substitute teacher was giving them the last half of class to work on their assignment. Sam was pretty sure it was only because the guy wanted to take a nap rather than teach a bunch of loud, obnoxious teenagers, but Sam was just happy to not have to worry about being called on. He hated when teachers singled him out, mostly 'cause it never happened when he was actually paying attention. He was pretty sure Rachel was the opposite; she probably even interrupted teachers to correct them. It shouldn't make him grin, but it did.

He was doodling in his binder when somebody took a seat next to him, making him tense with expectation. His eyes darted to the left to see a slender, tanned arm perched on the desk, long blood-red nails tapping out a beat. He imagined she'd make the perfect villainess. He swallowed tightly and looked up at the Latina girl glaring down at him, her lips pursed. She cocked a brow and he glanced away and then back, like he was wondering what she was pissed about now and if maybe somebody else could explain it to him. Last night, she'd been angry and apologetic and maybe even a little helpful, but he thought they were done. At least until Rachel told him they should be friends with Santana. He wasn't even sure that was humanly possible. The only friend he knew of her having was Brittany and she fell in love with her, so… That could be a bad sign. Like, what if she fell in love with _Rachel? _And he lost his _fake _girlfriend to his gay ex-girlfriend? He took a second to think that over, decided seeing Rachel and Santana kissing would be hot, and then shook his head.

Apparently bored with intimidating him, she leaned over and said sharply, "I thought my advice was pretty clear, Trouty-Lips. Rachel Berry equals social suicide…"

He frowned. "I heard you…" He looked back down at his binder, little cartoon dudes driving pimped out cars and aliens dancing to an unknown beat. This was probably why he fit in better with Rachel. "Look… Maybe you wanna hide and play their game, but we're not going to." He looked up at her, his lips pursed. "We'll keep your secret, San… But I'm not just gonna walk away 'cause the school doesn't like her…" He shrugged. "If it wasn't for you and Quinn, they probably wouldn't like me either."

"We were doing you a favor," she reminded, glaring. "You wanted to be popular and you got it. It's not as easy as you think it is. Now if you want to _keep_ being popular—"

"I don't."

Her brows furrowed, mouth agape. "Wait, wh-_what?_" She laughed in disbelief. "Did the midget infect you with her _crazy? _Everybody wants to be popular, Sam!"

"Yeah, well, _I _don't…" He shifted, glancing around to see if anybody was paying attention to their conversation. The substitute was half-asleep, head resting on his upturned fist, while most of the class was either talking or texting on their cell phones. "Look, being popular just made me hate myself. I might not be cool and maybe everything I like is lame, but… I guess having one person like me for who I am is better than having a bunch of people like me for being someone I'm not."

"Yeah, really enlightening," she muttered dismissively. "If you do this, you're _done_… You'll be a loser just like her."

"Then I'm a loser…" He shrugged. "It's not that bad… Y'know, besides the slushees…" He stared up at her searchingly. "Don't you ever just wanna be _you_, Santana?"

She stared at him, her brows furrowing and her eyes darting away. "Who says I'm not?" she finally snapped.

He only half-smiled like he felt sorry for her, and he kind of did. Sure, she was pretty and before she picked glee over the Cheerios, she was really popular. Even now, people were scared of her so they didn't do much. But… The only person who _really _knew her was Brittany and Santana couldn't even hang with her.

"Rachel thinks we should be nice to you… Like be your friend or just, I dunno…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "Like, if you ever wanted to talk about what was going on or just… hang out…" He shrugged. "We're here, y'know?"

"Yeah." She snapped her book closed. "Because I really wanna hang with you and Treasure Trail… Like I have nothing better to, nobody _cooler _to hang with."

He sighed. "Whatever…" He turned back to his doodles and started drawing a hat for his alien. He didn't know why an alien would wear a hat, but this one did. He spent the next twenty minutes making his alien look like a cowboy and then remembered there was supposed to be some crazy movie called Cowboys and Aliens and he wondered if Rachel would want to see it, if only for the cheese factor. He grinned. Maybe that weekend they could watch some of those really old cheesy monster movies; he wondered if she'd appreciate that they were classics or just rant about how ridiculous they were.

"You're so weird…" Santana's voice muttered next to his ear.

He jumped, looking over to see she was peering over his shoulder to check out his drawings. He rolled his eyes. "Thanks…"

"Y'know… They've got a movie coming out this summer about aliens and cowboys…" She glanced at him and then back down at his drawing. "Probably not as lame as what you're drawing, but…" She shrugged. "I only know 'cause Olivia Wilde's in it, and she played my girl Thirteen on House, but…"

He smiled slowly, 'cause at first he was confused but then he realized she was like, reaching out or whatever. "I think it's got the dude who played Bond in it too…"

"Daniel Craig," she offered, nodding. "I like my blonds…" She smirked at him.

He snorted. "Should I be flattered?"

She rolled her eyes, lips tilted in a smile. "You're Berry's blonde bitch now, Sammy…"

"She's a good friend, y'know… She just wants to help you."

Santana sighed, her eyes turning away dismissively. "Look… You try and keep Berry from making waves and I'll try to keep the slushees to a minimum… Outside of _that?_" The bell rang and she grabbed up her books. "I'm a solo act and I can handle my business…" She cocked her head in a show of confidence. "Keep your head down." She strode out of the room and Sam frowned, sighing to himself.

He thought maybe she really did want, or need, their friendship, but she was just too proud to accept it. He liked Santana; she was scary and he maybe still thought she'd hurt him just for a laugh, but then he thought maybe Rachel had the right idea. He offered friendship and it was all he could do. Hooking his books under his arm, he walked out of the classroom. He'd take her advice and try to keep him and Rachel from becoming much of a target. Maybe if they just stayed out of sight and didn't attract too much attention they'd get through it… And like she said, they'd only be pretending to date for another two days and then they could go back to before. They'd stop holding hands and he'd quit kissing her cheek and they'd just be friends… And the rest of the school would stop picking on her; for being a man-stealer, at least.

So why'd the idea of not being able to touch her as much really bug him?

…

Rachel was feeling pretty good by lunch. She'd stopped checking her cell phone texts, simply deleting most of them, because the majority had been unkind, but so far she hadn't been verbally abused by any of her peers in person, not directly anyway, and she considered that a fairly good morning. With her first two periods behind her, she was putting away her books and looking for her trail mix before she and Sam met up. He'd texted her, one of the few she'd opened, to say he'd pick her up at her locker and that he had something to tell her about her song. She was hoping it was good news and not that he'd decided maybe it was better if he didn't write the music to it. They had Regionals next Tuesday and she felt like they were running out of time.

Trail mix in hand and locker now closed, she turned around and leaned back against the metal door, smoothing out her skirt and telling herself she was _not _trying to look pretty and put together for when Sam arrived, because their friendship did not rely on those traits. It didn't matter if she checked her make-up twice in her locker mirror, or if she was wearing her favorite blue cardigan because it happened to match the Na'vi skin tone, or if she'd put all green M&M's in her trail mix because they matched the color of his eyes. Those were just quirks of hers, really, that had nothing to do with him. She was new to this friendship and she only wanted to make a good impression. Plus, she was sure it would stand out to the other students thus making it appear like they were a happy couple and further encouraging the idea that Rachel had simply wooed Sam away from Santana rather than that the girl was a closet lesbian in love with her best friend so she had her enemy and boyfriend plot a fake tryst behind her back.

She spotted Sam coming around the corner and pushed off her locker eagerly. She told her heart to slow down but it ignored her. She kept her hands busy closing and opening the zip to her trail mix.

He stopped in front of her with a lopsided grin, his hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans. "Hey," he greeted. "So guess who shot me down for friendship this morning?"

She smiled, laughing shortly. "It'll take work," she said, reaching over to swing her arm through his and encouraging him to walk with her. If she happened to take a moment to enjoy the nicely shaped muscles of his bicep, she was certain it went unnoticed. "I'm sure at the moment Santana just feels overwhelmed. It's probably not very often that she even gets _asked _to be friends. She appears to be a person who either intimidates others into submission or _orders _others to be in her general vicinity and thus calls them friends." She shrugged, plucking a green M&M out and holding it up for him to eat. Instead of taking it from her fingers, he bent and wrapped his teeth around it, nodding at her explanation. She blinked, a little surprised, and then let her hand fall back down. Why did her fingertips feel so warm from the barely-there brush of his lips? "Um, uh, like take Brittany for instance. While yes, Brittany is her _best _friend, and sometimes her lover, she's also not exactly bright enough to understand that Santana may be a bit controlling… While I think she understands what's going on between her and Santana in a physical manner and that she appreciates perhaps a softer side of her that we have yet to see, I also think that she doesn't quite recognize Santana's less appealing traits."

"Like how she's a bitch."

"Yes." She smiled. "Exactly."

"But she loves her… I mean, San's really nice to Brittany."

"Of course… She's probably one of few people that Santana's herself around."

He grinned. "So you think there's a nice girl hidden under all that Latina swagger?"

"Perhaps…" She nodded. "I think it may even be likely."

His brows furrowed skeptically. "Nice or just like, less mean?"

"You may have a point…" she admitted, nodding. "Perhaps assuming Santana is nice may be a bit of an overleap."

"Maybe…" He shrugged. "We won't know unless she lets us though… I mean, I don't know how you think we're going to get her to be our friend, I'm kinda okay with it just being me and you anyway, but… If you really wanna do this—"

"I do." She lifted her chin to stare up at him firmly. "I sincerely believe that she may be confused and hurt and with nobody to talk to or to understand her…" She sighed dramatically, shaking her head. "It's just not something I would wish upon anyone."

"Rach…" His eyes softened as he frowned down at her.

Before he could say much else though, grape slushee sailed through the air and slithered down their backs, chilly flavored ice staining their clothes and biting at their skin. Her mouth fell open in shock as she arched forward in a pointless attempt to outmaneuver the terrible torture. She looked up at the boy at her side, expecting to see the same expression she'd seen on Noah's handsome face last year. Shock, anger, disappointment and even a little shame. But Sam was… grinning at her.

"Is it weird I'm glad that happened _now?_" He quirked a brow at her. "I've been waiting for it all morning. I think not knowing when it was gonna hit was worse…"

She shook her head, squeezed his hand and turned on her heel. "Come on… We'll get you cleaned up." She chewed her lip. "I hope you brought a spare set of clothes."

He frowned. "Just my workout stuff…" He shrugged. "It's clean though, so I'm good."

She felt terrible as they walked through the halls. Their fellow students snickered, some of then snapping pictures with their phones. When it was just her, she could sneak into the nearest bathroom, her trolley bag already on-hand, and swiftly wipe away the remnants of embarrassment. Sam was a foot taller than her, his blond hair stained purple in the back, his blue target tee-shirt stuck to his back, and an odd sort of smile on his face that made her think he might have lost his mind. "Should we stop at your locker?"

He shook his head. "No, my clothes are in my gym locker…" He squeezed her hand and detoured to her locker, standing proudly next to her and glaring at anybody who got too close. She grabbed her trolley bag out with all of her necessities and looked over at him. His arms were crossed over his chest and his smile had slipped away to be replaced by a scowl. She thought she'd never seen Sam so… so _angry_. She hated that it was partly her fault. Sam was nice and sweet; he didn't deserve this. If he were walking with Santana, he wouldn't have been slusheed. Her chest ached. Why was it they hated her so much that they had to destroy even the simplest of connections between her and anybody else?

"Rach?"

She shook her head and gave him her bright, brave smile. "Let's get you cleaned up!" she declared.

They went to the boys changing room. He stopped at one of the tall red lockers and grabbed up his combination lock while she looked around and wrinkled her nose at the stale smell of sweaty gym clothes and forgotten football gear.

"Did you want to shower?" he asked her.

Her eyes darted up to his, wide and surprised. "Wh-What?"

He chuckled, though his cheeks flushed red. "Not together… I just meant…" He pointed a thumb over to where the showers were lined up. "You could go first… I'll sit back here, keep look out."

"Oh, um…" She could feel the slushee all down her body; corn syrup clung to even the most intimate of places. "Actually, yes…" she decided, nodding. "But, with your hair…" She looked up and frowned. "If you don't get that washed out, I'm worried you'll have purple highlights that you never wanted."

"I look_ good _in purple," he argued, grinning.

She rolled her eyes. "Be that as it may…"

His hand found her hip and he turned her, giving her a light shove. "Just go shower… I'll be fine."

She glanced back at him once, unsure. But he straddled the bench and waved her off, an easy-going smile in place.

Shoulders slumped, she sighed and walked off to the line of shower stalls. She brought her trolley bag along with her and went through it for her new outfit and the bottles of shampoo and conditioner she usually brought along to wash her hair out in the bathroom sinks. Knowing that he was just feet away while she stripped her clothes off made an odd sort of warmth fill her lower-belly. With each layer shed, her breathing thickened and she wondered if each scrap of fabric hitting the floor sounded as loud to him as it did her. She hurried through the door to stand on the tile floor, her long hair sticky against her back. She fiddled with the taps until she got the temperature right and leaned into the hot spray, wiggling her toes in the puddle forming below before it slid down the drain.

"Sam?" she called out.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Could you… Could just talk to me? I…" She smiled awkwardly, even though he couldn't see her. "I feel very silly being in the boy's changing room, knowing you're right there and basically ignoring you."

"Um, okay… What—What'd you wanna talk about?"

"I don't know… Anything, really… Um, why don't you tell me about your old school? Was it anything like here at McKinley?" She lathered soap in her hands and waited for him to reply.

"Not… really…" He sighed. "I guess… I mean, it was an all boy's school, so I definitely didn't have hot naked girls showering in the same room… Probably one of the few upsides to McKinley."

She laughed, ducking her head and rubbing her soapy hands down her body. As the water turned purple at her feet, slushee washing away, she wondered softly, "Was there a bullying problem?"

"I dunno… I mean, I'm sure some people got bullied… I don't think it was ever as bad as this… There were no slushees or anything." She imagined he was shrugging dismissively.

She almost couldn't remember a time before the slushees; before her enthusiasm was met with a burning icy facial.

"Did you like it there?"

"I…" He went quiet before heard shuffling feet like he was pacing. "I blended in there. I was like… non-existent, y'know? Not even important enough to _be _bullied…"

"Was that worse, do you think?" She scrubbed shampoo into her hair. "Than being slusheed or called names or hated for just being you?"

"Rach… I've got slushee all down my back… I _squish _when I sit…" He laughed shortly. "I don't think anything's worse than this feeling."

Her face fell, heart aching. "I-I'm sorry," she choked out. "This is all my fault. If I had just said no to Santana and her scheme you would be blissfully unaware of what was happening and I'm sure she would have found some other way to end your ruse of a relationship! I shouldn't have—"

"Rachel, _no_." He came out from around the lockers and stared at her earnestly. "You can't blame yourself for how mean other people are… Those guys are _jerks!_"

Bubbles dribbled down the side of her face and plopped onto her shoulder. She sniffled. "They are," she agreed. "But I knew what they would do, what they would _say_, and I still allowed myself to become close to you… I should have kept my distance or supplied you with an escape route when this fake relationship began, I—"

"You're the only real person I know… The only real friend I've _got_…" He shook his head. "I don't care what they say or what they do…" He shrugged. "I like being me and you're the only person who's okay with that."

She wiped at her face quickly, tears escaping and mixing with soapy water. "I understand and appreciate that…" She nodded. "But perhaps McKinley isn't ready for the courtship of Rachel Berry and Sam Evans, fake or not…" She stared at him with big, wide eyes. "I don't think anybody would blame you if you 'broke up' with me now rather than later…"

He chuckled at her air-quotes. "Look, Rach… You're not getting rid of me that easy…" He squared his jaw. "I'm not abandoning you just because of a stupid slushee…" He dragged a hand through his purple stained hair and smiled at her lopsidedly. "You're worth the brain-freeze."

She smiled slowly, her lips spreading wider and wider until she was full on beaming at him. "I think that may be one of the nicest things anybody has ever said to me, Sam Evans."

His brows furrowed. "We should work on that…"

She ducked her head, laughing. Wiping at her cheeks again, she murmured, "Thank you."

He nodded, eyes darting away and then back. His face was getting progressively redder. "You're _really _naked in there, huh?"

She looked down. The divider between shower stalls was tall enough to cover her up to her neck. "As the day I was born," she admitted.

"Right, um, o-okay… I-I'm just gonna…" He thrust a thumb behind him and stumbled backwards, bumping into a line of lockers. He grinned goofily before turning around and fleeing back to where he could no longer see her.

Giggling, she turned around and focused on finishing her hair. Perhaps she should stop doubting him so much; he may very well be the only person who wouldn't fall prey to the pressure of their peers…

She certainly hoped so, because she was really blessed to have his friendship.

…

Sam grinned up at her as she frowned down at his dripping mop of blond hair. He was tying his sneakers up and grumbling that they wouldn't have time to stop and get a PowerBar or something to snack on before next class. Their showers had taken up so much time, he wasn't even sure they'd make it to class before last bell, which Rachel was pretty obviously unhappy about.

As the first warning bell rang, she clucked her tongue. "My perfect attendance record…"

"You can still make it." He nodded toward the door. "You've got your bag…"

She looked back at him. "And leave you unattended and free for the wolves to attack, maul and possibly humiliate all on your lonesome?" She blinked. "Of course not…" Her lips pursed. "And besides, you'll catch your death if you don't dry your hair."

He smiled up at her. "Catch my death?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Mocking will only make it worse…" She grabbed up a towel and circled him, tossing it down on his head before she began scrubbing, trying to get the access water out.

"Pretty sure this is a form of torture," he muttered, his head jostling back and forth.

"You'll thank me when you avoid pneumonia!"

"I'll never know if I avoided it if I don't get it…"

She scoffed. "Your logic is ridiculous."

He smirked. "I'm not sure I'm the only one."

Huffing, she drew the towel back and then moved to take a look at him. Nodding, satisfied, she declared, "_There_."

He reached up to his head and started smoothing it out, combing through it with his fingers.

"I have some hair-care products, if you would prefer," she offered.

Amused, he shook his head and stood from the bench. "I'm good." His hand found the small of her back as they walked to the locker room doors. "Ready to face the crowd?" he asked.

She looked up at him, her chin lifted and a stubborn expression clear in her face. "In the immortal words of one Noah Puckerman, in a time before you, '_Bring it!'_"

He chuckled, swinging the door open and following after her.

They were hardly two steps before they found Finn Hudson staring back at them, looking back and forth between their mutually still-wet hair and then past them to the locker room doors, obviously coming to the conclusion that they'd shared a shower together. His lips pursed and he shook his head, glancing at Rachel in disappointment before he turned and left for class. Sam looked back at her apologetically, a half-smile in place. She glanced at him and then her eyes fell to the floor.

"Well… This will be all over school by lunch…" She inhaled deeply. "On the bright side, it will make it far more believable that you left Santana for me… I apparently engage in sexual relations during school hours… And in the locker room no less!"

He winced. "Rachel…"

She held up a hand to stop him. "It's perfectly fine. What Finn Hudson chooses to believe or jumps to conclusions about is his own business…" She looked around and then frowned. "We should be heading to class, though. I really would like to keep my attendance record in tact."

"Yeah, sure… I'll walk you."

She nodded. "Thank you."

They walked side by side, moving quickly through the emptying hallways, both of them quiet. He glanced at her a few times, worried about how she might be taking it. He knew her and Finn had been over since December, but he also knew that she was still pretty in love with the guy, even if he was a douche. Sam didn't really think Finn was good enough for her, but he wasn't sure it was his place to say anything. They were new at this friend's thing and he honestly wasn't sure if what he said had anything to do with Finn being with Quinn or Finn just being a lame ass boyfriend to Rachel in the first place. He did know that he cared about Rachel and he didn't like it when she was this quiet because it made him worry. Things always got worse when it got quiet; or maybe that was just what he'd found when it came to horror movies…

They stopped at her classroom door just as the second bell rang and she moved to go inside. He grabbed her hand to stop her, hoping the teacher would notice she was _technically _there and still mark her as on time. "I can tell him, if you want… Explain it all so he doesn't get the wrong idea," he offered.

She smiled up at him. "Thank you, Sam." She reached up on her tip-toes and kissed his cheek, lingering a second. When she slipped away, she shook her head. "But I don't care what he thinks or why…" She lifted her chin and a little more fire entered her eyes. "Finn Hudson is irrelevant."

He grinned at her. "Okay."

"Now get to class," she ordered. "I was hoping we might practice our song during lunch and that won't happen if you're in detention."

"I'll meet you in the auditorium," he agreed, nodding.

"Wonderful." She turned on her heel and flounced into her classroom.

He chuckled after her before turning and jogging off to his own class. Rachel Berry had a way of never doing what he expected of normal girls; he really liked that about her.

…

Rachel hadn't checked her cell phone the whole of her third block. She knew when it began buzzing incessantly that it could only be more bad news; no doubt, the student body had heard of her and Sam's _'hooking up' _in the shower during break. She didn't want to know what her peers thought of her or her behavior, especially when she had only washed away the evidence of their utter dislike, which had been unprovoked by either she or Sam. They were simple bystanders in a war they didn't even understand. When class finally ended, she was happy to get away from the whispers and the stares; she grabbed her lunch from her locker and hurried to the auditorium, hoping he would remember the lyrics and sheet music because the last thing she wanted to do was walk through the halls and garner more attention.

She was humming under her breath, happy to have made it to the auditorium with little fanfare or teasing, when she spotted a familiar blonde sitting at the piano. Unfortunately, it wasn't the fair-haired boy she'd been looking forward to seeing, but instead his ex-girlfriend. Quinn Fabray sat, fingers dancing across porcelain keys. For a moment, Rachel considered simply leaving. She could text Sam; ask him to meet her in the choir room instead. But then, her resolve built up. No doubt, Quinn had heard about the earlier misinterpretation of her and Sam's separate shower. She could only assume that the ex-girlfriend of her current fake boyfriend was nonplussed; perhaps she'd even come here to sing out her pain and heartache and maybe even admit to an odd sort of admiration for Rachel Berry herself. Yes, of course it was a long shot. But she was a natural dreamer and was always happy to stroke her ego a little.

She walked on-stage partly because she refused to back down, even in the face of a full-on Quinn Farbay 'die where you stand' glare and also because she was just slightly smug that she had Sam. Admittedly, it was a fake relationship and she didn't really have him as anything more than a very good, if not best, friend, but Quinn didn't know that.

"I hadn't realized you were practicing in here," she said, announcing her presence.

Quinn glanced at her, cocking a narrow blonde brow. "Really?" she said, unconvinced.

She twisted her hands, because if anybody could pick at her confidence it was this girl here. "Yes, well… I'd hoped to use the auditorium to work on something…"

"Lemme guess, a sad _love _song…" She rolled her eyes and how it could be so delicately done, Rachel didn't know. "You can sing to all the empty seats in here, Rachel, it's not going to change any thing…"

"And just what is it you think I'm trying to change, Quinn?" She raised her chin, trying to look as though she wasn't even the tiniest bit intimidated. For such a slight girl, there was something deadly about Quinn.

"There's the fact that Finn doesn't _love _you…" Her brows furrowed as she laughed, short and cutting. "You think by roping Sam into some_ ridiculous_ relationship, which won't last a _week_ by the way, that Finn's going to come running back to you?" She shook her head, blonde waves dancing on her slender shoulders. "You're pathetic."

She swallowed tightly, her eyes falling and then raising. "What Sam and I have is—"

"Non-existent," Quinn cut in, fluttering her eyes dismissively. "If he's with you it's because he can't be with me…" She stared at her searchingly, green eyes narrowed. "Sam loves _me_, _Finn _loves _me_… _You _are just the girl who won't give up…" She rose from her seat and circled the piano with an air of gracefulness none of Rachel's many dancing lessons could give her. "Do you know how this story plays out…?" She didn't wait for a reply, her voice soft, "I get Finn… You get heartbroken." She shook her head. "And even nice, naïve Sam is going to leave you eventually, they _all _do." She shrugged a delicate shoulder. "So let go of the fantasy already…" She stared firmly. "_Stop _fighting for someone who doesn't _want _you… And do Sam a favor and break up with him before the whole school thinks he's as much a freak as you are."

Lips trembling, Rachel took a step back and fisted her hands. "You never deserved him," she murmured.

Sighing, she rolled her eyes. "Face it Rachel, Finn will always come back to me."

"No, not Finn." She shook her head. "You never deserved Sam. Y-You had the _perfect _boy right in front of you, _willing _to do anything to make you happy and you threw that away!" Her brows furrowed. "For _what?_ To _prove _that you could get him back? T-To _hurt _me?" She struggled for words, looking away, angry. Swallowing tightly, she gathered her breath. "You can _keep_, Finn… You're _perfect _foreach other… Neither of you know what you have until you've lost it." With that, she turned on her heel and fled toward the doors. Her expression crumbling as tears burned her eyes and a sob wracked her body.

Quinn was thankfully silent as Rachel pushed through the doors and out into the hallway, inhaling deeply as she tried to keep herself from breaking down in front of all these people, everyone who would only relish in her ultimate demise.

But then there were arms around her, hugging her tight to a broad, hard chest. She drew in a gulping breath and smelled… _Sam_. Her shoulders fell as she let herself lean into him, her tears dampening his tee-shirt.

"Shhh," he said against her ear, his hands moving up and down her back soothingly. "I got you…" His chin fell to her shoulder while he rubbed her back and stroked her hair and she heard him hum faintly against her ear. She wrapped her arms around his waist and just cried, her hiccupping sobs slowing down as she listened, as she strained to recognize the song he sang. Some part of her was thoroughly embarrassed that she'd broken down, that her distress was imprinted on his shirt in way of tears and no doubt a little snot. Even as her crying faded and the noise decibel dropped, she continued to hold onto him, turning her head so her cheek was pressed to his heart. She kept her eyes closed, not wanting to see the school staring back at her, their mocking faces smiling as if she deserved whatever harrowing event she'd just suffered.

It was five or ten minutes before he finally pulled back and looked down at her. His thumbs brushed her tears off her cheeks and his expression hardened. "What happened?"

She shook her head, eyes falling. "Nothing… I…" She didn't want to tell him what Quinn had said, that she thought perhaps she was right. Not that she had engaged in this fake relationship with Sam to get back at Finn, because she hadn't. He'd hardly registered as a concern lately. But perhaps Quinn had a point about Sam. She'd been telling herself all along that she was only dragging him down. And while she knew she was helping Santana because she thought it was right, maybe Sam did have some ulterior motive; maybe there was some part of him that did want to get back at Quinn. And who better than with Rachel Berry? She didn't want to think the worst of him and even now, he was holding her and she couldn't help the hopeful thought that he genuinely cared. But the fact of the matter was that she didn't belong with Sam and he had a better chance outside of her. Everybody did.

He looked past her to the auditorium doors, like he knew whatever had hurt her was in there and he wanted to confront it. Just as his hand reached out, she fisted the front of his shirt in her hand. "Why don't we go to the choir room? I-I would really like to sing right now," she told him, staring up at hopefully.

He sighed, his teeth grit, but he nodded. "Fine…" He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into his side, walking down the hall in silence. It was a few minutes before he licked his lips nervously and looked down at her. "I wanted to show you something…" He dug out the rolled up papers from his back pocket and handed them to her.

Sniffling a little still, she took them, unrolling and smoothing the paper out. Her brows wrinkled and a smile quirked her lips. "You finished the music…"

"Yeah." He grinned. "You've still gotta finish the lyrics, but now we've got the music to help us, so…" He shrugged.

She nodded. "This is wonderful." She beamed up at him. "You'll play it for me?"

He hugged her tighter and turned them into the choir room. "It'd be my honor." He led her to a chair in the front row and grabbed up a guitar. "Remember, it's a little rough," he warned, before moving to stand center in the room. "And it'll sound better with your lyrics, too…"

She gripped the edge of her seat and sat forward eagerly. "Just play."

He smiled sheepishly and fiddled with the tuning before finally taking a deep breath. With gusto, he started strumming, tapping his foot and putting his whole body into the passion of each beat. Sam grinned at her, mouth stretched wide and showing white teeth as he sang bits and pieces of her song to her.

And Rachel smiled, her eyes brightening, her fears and worry slipping away. Because Quinn was _wrong_. Maybe Sam missed her, maybe he even wanted to hurt her, but he was a _friend _to Rachel and there was no lie in that, no secondary mission behind his actions. He was just a good and honest friend; willing to stay up late and write music to her scattered lyrics and song idea. Willing to put his name next to hers and be proud that he helped with a Rachel Berry creation. Willing to be slusheed and defamed and hated just for liking her. Willing to let his perfect blond hair turn purple just so she could take the first shower.

Whatever Quinn Fabray might have to say, Rachel knew she got at least part of it wrong. Sam Evans wasn't going to leave her. Because he was better than all of them out there and she had the proof scrawled on wrinkled paper in her hands. He was a loser, just like her, and proud of it. He swung his arm around in a circle as he finished the music and she hopped out of her chair, clapping excitedly. "Brava! _Brava!_" she cheered.

He laughed, giving a bow.

And right then and there she promised herself that she would always stand by him, because he deserved the same devotion he was giving her. It was too bad Quinn Fabray didn't know the meaning of the word, but Rachel Berry always was a quick learner.

[**Next**: Chapter VII.]


	8. Chapter VII

**Title**: All These Labels  
**Category**: Glee  
**Genre**: Humor/Romance  
**Ship**: Rachel/Sam  
**Rating**: Teen (subject to change)  
**Warning(s)**: Spoilers for Sexy and the **promo** to Original Song  
**Word Count**: 6,322  
**Summary**: When Santana asked Rachel to distract Sam she had no idea what it would lead to. But it certainly surpassed her expectations and more.

**_All These Labels_**  
-Novel-

**VII.**

Rachel was both excited and hesitant for glee that afternoon. She and Sam had agreed to bring up the possibility of using original songs again, seeing as she was sure they wouldn't win with My Chemical Romance's Sing. She had nothing against the very emotionally charged anthem, but she felt like they needed something big, something to really hook the judges and encourage them into New Direction's corner. The rest of lunch was spent just between Sam and Rachel, their heads bent together as they sat side by side on the piano bench, going over lyrics and music notes, singing and correcting and getting it just right. And by the time the first bell rang, they were done. It was finished. She had officially written a song that had nothing to do with hair accessories. She was happy, proud, and not even the earlier events of the day that had played so unjustly on her trampled self-image could discourage her high.

Sam walked her to her class, kissing her cheek in a manner she was becoming far too accustomed to, and giving her a jubilant thumbs-up before turning and leaving for his own, while she took a seat and spread her books out, unable to hide her brilliant grin. Because of her great mood, she only interrupted and corrected her teacher twice, she let it slide the other three times they mixed something up or mispronounced something and while they didn't seem to appreciate her holding back, she knew it was much more polite and thus good.

The closer the school day came to ending, the happier and yet more uncertain she became. She wanted to see Sam. She told herself it was simply that new friendship feeling; of being able to sit and talk freely with somebody who appreciated her wholly. But the truth of the matter was, she felt bonded to him. He'd taken a slushee with her, perhaps not willingly but he hadn't walked away from her or tried to disown their friendship immediately after and that was encouraging. He'd comforted her and allowed her some privacy to her distress, he'd helped her finish her song, and he'd been a great influence on making what might have been one of her worst days in some time a much more enjoyable experience. She wasn't sure how he did it, but somehow he made all of the turmoil and heartbreak _worth _it.

When the last bell finally rang, she bounced out of class smiling. She wasn't sure if Mr. Shue would listen to their proposal to doing original songs at Regionals or if he'd ignore her suggestion completely or even if the club itself would hear her opinion, but they were going to try. And since the song was finished, she thought that might even help them. If they sang for them, and Rachel was the first to say her every performance was an awesome sight to see, perhaps they would be swayed to their line of thinking. She clapped her hands as she stood at her locker, putting away her books and trolley bag. She checked her pink cell phone only once for any texts from Sam, finding only one since the end of lunch.

_were gonna blow 'em away at glee 2day, ray!_

She grinned, her chest blooming with excitement. If she read it four or five times, it was only because she needed the encouragement. Not because his short-hand use of her name, a moniker of his own making, made her excited or her heart flutter or her whole body tingle.

"Psst, Berry," she heard.

Lips still stretched wide, unable to help herself, her eyes darted to the right, searching out the voice.

"Over here!"

Brows furrowed, her smile faded as she looked through various passing students before finally settling on the hand waving at her. "Santana?"

"_Shhh!_"

She frowned, walking toward the gesturing appendage. "What are you—?" She was cut off when the girl grabbed her and yanked her into the classroom behind her. Stumbling a few steps, she glared at the Latina girl who was checking to make sure nobody saw what she'd done before closing the door, effectively blocking her from the only exit out of the otherwise empty room.

Brushing off her clothes, more out of nerves than anything else, Rachel stomped her foot. "What is the meaning of this totally uncalled for attack on my person?"

Rolling her eyes, clearly exasperated with Rachel's theatrics, Santana sighed, cocking her hip. "What part of _shush _don't you get, Treasure Trail?" She raised a brow, quirking her head demandingly.

She scoffed. "If this is some misguided attempt to show dominance and remind me that I'm far less popular than you and so should keep in my given place, I really don't want to hear it. I might remind you that I've been doing you a favor and all I've heard from you on the subject are accusations and disbelief that I carried out exactly what you wanted me to…" She pursed her lips and crossed her arms atop her chest. "I happen to know that Sam offered you his hand in friendship and you not so kindly shoved it off… While I understand that you might be hesitant, or even unappreciative that I'm somehow related to that offer, I really think that you need companionship right now and while I'm sure you'll only throw this back in my face, quite undeservingly I might add, I will only add that we are here for when you come to your senses and seek a shoulder to cry on… Although if your natural reaction is to turn to violence, I would hope that you might avoid my face, especially my nose, and that you give me some forewarning so I might contact an ambulance ahead of time to better have any damage corrected in a quick and efficient manner."

Santana stared at her, slightly slack-jawed. "_How _does he put up with you? You just go on and on and _on!_" She laughed in disbelief. "How do you even have enough time to come up with those little speeches?"

Her brows furrowed. "To be perfectly honest, I find I speak less, or perhaps more appropriately to our age group, when I'm in Sam's presence…" She fidgeted slightly. "I haven't figured out why, although I think it's because he puts me at ease like I'm not with many of my other peers…" She tipped her head thoughtfully. "I suppose that's very comforting to hear for you, since I hope that one day we will engage in a friendship in much the same manner and thus you can expect I might not always speak so precisely in your presence."

Santana blinked and then snorted. "Yeah, 'cause I don't have enough girl problems that I need to add falling for _you _to my list…"

Not understanding, she shook her head. "I-I'm _sorry?_"

"Maybe the not talking like you ate a dictionary would be nice, but I _really _don't need you treating me like you do Sammy…" She rolled her eyes at Rachel's obvious confusion. "You _showered _with him earlier, Berry… And I assume that's not _all _you did." She smirked, quirking a brow. "Brittany's enough for me, thanks… I mean you're hot, in a midgety kind of way, but Sammy can handle your crazy." She snapped her finger around in front of her dismissively. "I don't even wanna _try_."

"I… I believe you've completely misread the situation…" She wrung her hands. "Sam and I are only friends… I mean, yes, we have been engaging in a fake relationship for your sake, which I thought you understood, but that's all it is… _Fake_. And as for any suggestion that I might be interested in pursuing an emotional or physical relationship with you, I'm afraid that's not true either. While I'm sure you would make a good girlfriend, especially for my first homosexual encounter, I have neither those feelings for you, nor for girls in general. I much prefer masculine attributes found in, well, _boys_…"

"Damn rights I'd be a good girlfriend," she replied smugly.

Rachel frowned. "I really hope you understood the general gist of what I was trying to say… I fear you may only hear bits and pieces, much like your male counterpart in Noah…"

She scowled. "My counter-what?"

"Noah… He's like a male version of you…" She lifted a delicate shoulder. "Only he's recently come to realize that perhaps being a badass is only a cover for his hurt feelings of his dad leaving when he was young. He's been actively trying to change himself and come to grips with a Noah that doesn't turn immediately to his Puck-self which indulges in criminal behavior and acts out when forced to confront past emotional disturbances."

Santana blinked. "Whatever… I don't even know why we're talking about this."

"Oh, well… May I ask what it is you had wanted to speak to me about?"

She glanced away and then back. "Sam… Well, _you _and Sam, really… I don't know if he told you, but I said I'd try and keep the slushees to a minimum, if you guys would stop making such a giant loser target anyway…" She shrugged. "Look, I'm shit at thank-you's and I kind of screwed up the one I made to Sam after you date—"

"Friendly outing," she corrected.

Santana ignored her. "I'm not good with talking feelings. Last time I tried, I got rejected. Not exactly a great selling point." She scoffed. "But whatever… Just… Sam's a good guy, Berry. And maybe you're not the _worst _girl to have on my side either…"

She grinned widely, standing a little straighter. "Does this mean you're accepting our proposal of friendship?"

She sneered at her, brows knotted together. "What? _No!_"

"Fine," Rachel sighed. "As long as you know it's an open invitation and will not be rescinded anytime in the near future."

"Whatever…" She looked away.

"Was there anything else you'd like to discuss?"

She pursed her lips, staring at a far off spot across the room. "This thing with Sam… I mean, I know I asked you and everything, but…" She looked back at her. "If you're doing this because you're trying to get Finn back or hurt him or something…" She shifted her feet uncomfortably. "'Cause I already had this talk with him and he said he really liked you and it wasn't about Quinn… Made me think…" She stared at her darkly, her brow raised in a cutting, demanding manner. "I know I might've hurt Sam and his guppy lips, but I didn't really have control over that… And the last thing I wanna do is add you to the equation and have you break his heart because Finnocent wakes the hell up and realizes he's still in love with _your _midget ass…" She put her hands to her hips and snapped, "So if this is one your stupid plans to get him back and you break Sam's heart—"

"It's not… And I won't." Rachel shook her head. "I've been doing a lot of thinking and I've decided that now isn't the time for me to be dating. I genuinely mean that. So I won't be pursuing Finn any longer and as for Sam…" She smiled slowly. "I think it's admirable that you're trying to look out for him and I think he'd be very happy to know that you care… But your concern is misplaced. My feelings for Sam are platonic and we are very happy exploring a friendship together."

She sighed, shaking her head. "Okay, _one_, good! Finn's a douche anyway and it's about time you figured that out. Two…" She glared. "Are you stupid or do you only go for the guys who'll screw you over?"

Rachel frowned, taking a deep breath. "I—"

"No, _listen_… Sam is awesome. He's geeky and weird and sometimes he starts talking in that weird Avatar language and that's not as hot as he thinks it is. But the point is, he's a _good _guy. Like, _for real_." She rolled her eyes. "Not Finn good, where there's an inner dick just waiting to spring out and fuck you over. I mean a really, _really _good guy. And I know I hurt him, I know Quinn royally fucked him up, but he seems to really like you… Like enough to give up his reputation, to fall all the way down to bottom rung on the ladder, and to let out his lame-ass inner-geek for you, so just…" She glared at her. "Open your big browns' and see what's right in front of you, all right?" Swishing her hair over her shoulder, she clucked her tongue. "And that's the last favor I'm doing for you losers…" She waved her hand snappishly before turning on her heel and leaving.

Rachel, though confused, smiled slightly. She was fairly certain that Santana was slowly becoming more open to their offer of friendship. Her day was definitely getting better.

…

Sam was kind of excited. He liked glee, like _a lot_, but today was extra cool. One, because most of the gleeks thought him and Rachel were dating and he kinda couldn't wait to see what they'd think. Two, 'cause him and Rachel were gonna bring up original songs again and hers was like _epic_. And three… Well, he just got to hang with Rachel, and that was cool. When he went by her locker, she wasn't there. That sucked, mostly because they usually held hands whenever classes were out and he was thinking walking into glee together would make more of them notice and he felt really proud with her, but he could deal. He made his way to the choir room; Rachel's song rolled up and stuck in the back pocket of his jeans. When he walked inside the room, he was a little surprised to see she wasn't there yet. She was _never _late, actually she was usually the first one there, so he thought maybe he should go back and wait by her locker. But when he turned to leave, his brows furrowed, Santana walked in.

She rolled her eyes at him. "She's on her way, Prince Bieber… Try not to look so desperate."

He frowned after her, but walked over to take a seat anyway. Playing with his fingers, he tapped his foot impatiently and stared at the door.

"Could you _be _more obvious?"

Brows furrowed, he glanced at Santana sitting next to him. He hadn't even meant to sit by her, but everybody else already had their seats and the only two left were in the front next to her. Even though Rachel was encouraging the whole friendship thing, he didn't really trust Santana with not saying something that might hurt Rachel's feelings and she'd already had a pretty suckish day. The slushee was pretty lame, but he wasn't really surprised. He was expecting it to happen eventually and it still felt like being scraped across jagged ice but he thought he handled it pretty well… Especially later, with a naked Rachel not far away. If it wasn't for the smell of feet in the air, which was too gross to ignore, he thought things could've gotten _really _awkward. And then if the slushee wasn't enough, he was late to practicing their song and something happened to make her cry. He didn't know _why _she was so upset when she left the auditorium, he knew it pissed him off and he really wanted to go in and find whoever it was and make them apologize, but he did what he could and she'd been smiling since they worked on her song, so he figured she was feeling better. But now she was late and he worried something else happened. They weren't having the best of luck lately and he kind of felt protective of her. He didn't want to _blame _Santana, but since she was the last person to see her… "What'd you _do?_"

She scoffed, admiring her nails and dismissing him. "We talked, all right?" She glanced at him. "She was in one piece when I left. I'm sure your little princess will be here any second."

His lips pursed. "Talked about what?"

"Our _periods_," she sneered, leaning in to him like she was trying to intimidate him. "Why? Worried I might take your girl?" she laughed.

His teeth grit, eyes narrowing. "Low blow, San."

Her smile faded. "Only to you… I was referencing _my _current issue, Sam… Not Quinn's bitchtastic cheating."

He nodded slightly and then glanced at her. "You wouldn't though, right?" At her cocked brow, he explained, "Try and take Rachel, I mean…"

Her lips curved slowly. "You admitting she's your girl?"

"She's…" His eyes darted away and he wondered why he was even hesitating.

Just then, Rachel walked in the room, smiling brightly. She had Mr. Shuester at her heels, looking distracted and vaguely nodding at her as she chattered on and on, her hands clasped happily up near her chest.

Sam didn't know what she was talking about, but he liked how happy it made her.

"Okay, Rachel. Why don't you take your seat?" Mr. Shue motioned to the others before dropping his suitcase to the top of the piano.

Bouncing a little, Rachel walked over and took her seat next to him, scooting her chair over a little so they were closer. She rested a hand on his knee and turned toward him. "I've made progress," she announced, quietly enough that only he would hear. At his wondering expression, she added, "In our mutual project of gaining Santana's friendship…" She smiled brightly. "She would likely call me delusional and state that she was only sussing out my intentions toward you, but I truly think we may have made a connection after she not-so-subtly dragged me into an empty room without my consent…" She nodded, her eyes wide and bright. "You'll see, Sam, we are going to become great friends to Santana Lopez."

Her face was so close her nose was almost touching his. He almost didn't hear what she said; he could hear the words, but it was like they weren't registering in his mind. Mostly, he just kept thinking that she had really pretty eyes and she smelled _so _good and her _hand _was on his _knee_ and her fingers just kept squeezing whenever she got excited.

"That… That's great," he managed breathlessly, even though he wasn't really sure what she was saying. Something about her and Santana in an empty room and intentions and… That's about all he got.

"Isn't it?" She beamed, tipping her head. "Oh, I can't wait!"

He nodded, just staring at her a little while.

"All right guys," Mr. Shue said, drawing their attention.

Rachel turned away, setting her eyes firmly on their teacher, but her hand stayed on his leg, thumb stroking back and forth. He swallowed tightly, sliding an arm around the back of her chair and telling his heart to slow down. This was all part of the act, he told himself. She was putting on a show for the others, touching him, leaning into him; they were supposed to be dating. But he liked it; he _really _liked having her so close.

"Mr. Shue!" Rachel threw a hand up in the air expectantly. "If I may?"

He sighed, glancing at her. "Rachel, we've just started. Is this important?"

"Diva probably wants to sing some sappy song to her new lover-boy," Mercedes muttered, sighing.

"While I appreciate the opportunity and I'm sure that in future I will find the perfect song to best express my feelings for Sam, that's not what I had wanted to discuss…" She sat up a little straighter and stared directly at their teacher. "Now, I know I've brought this up before and was shut down with little preamble, but I would like to bring up the subject of doing an original song at Regionals." She firmed her jaw and pursed her lips. "I realize that we only have a week and it would seem very little time to write just such a song but—"

"Actually, I've been thinking the same thing," Mr. Shue interrupted.

She sighed. "I'm very disappointed by your—Wait… _What?_" She stared up at him, surprised. "You-You _have?_"

He smiled. "Yes… I was talking to Coach Sylvester yesterday and she was boasting about her set list and how she _knows _it's going to destroy anything we have…" He shook his head. "The last thing I want to do is let that happen, not when we have such a great collection of singers among us that have worked _too _hard to be overshadowed." He clapped his hands. "Now, Rachel, I want to apologize for dismissing your idea originally… I think that was hasty. _But_…" He looked around at them. "It's not my choice alone… Writing our own songs will be hard and it'll take work… We all have very different opinions and we like different kinds of music, so it could be difficult…" He half-smiled. "I want to put it to a vote…"

Rachel frowned, looking around. "Perhaps we could have a debate then… If you'll give me a little time to get together a list of pros for doing an original song and prepare myself for what cons might be thrown my way…"

He chuckled a little. "I admire your commitment, but I think we're just going to put it out there."

Deflated, Rachel looked to Sam worriedly.

He covered her hand on his knee. "We gotta trust our team, Rach…"

She sighed. "Fine… But if we don't do original songs and we lose, don't be surprised when I emphatically remind everyone that I had an idea that could've saved us!" She raised her brows seriously.

He grinned, chuckling, before he nodded at Mr. Shue.

"Okay…" He clapped his hands and stared at them questioningly. "Who wants to use _Sing_ at Regionals?"

Rachel turned in her seat, gripping Sam's fingers tightly as she counted raised hands. He glanced back to see Tina, Lauren, Mercedes, Artie, Brittany and Quinn were all saying yes, while he, Finn, Puck, Mike and Santana were agreeing with Rachel.

"We've got a tie here guys…" He sighed, hands on his hips.

"Why don't you be the decider vote then, Mr. Shue?" Finn suggested. "I mean you know us better than anybody else… If you think we'd be better off doing an original, then we will." He looked around at the others. "Right?"

"Finn's right," Mercedes agreed. "If you think we can write our own song and make it good enough to win… Then I'm with you!"

Mr. Shue looked from face to face wonderingly. "You guys trust me _that _much?"

They collectively called out _yes_. Slowly nodding, he cheered, "We're doing original songs for Regionals!"

Grinning, Sam pumped his fist a few times triumphantly. "_Yes!_"

Happily, Rachel clapped her hands, leaning toward him with a bright smile.

As Mr. Shue waved at them to quiet down, he was smiling. "I'm really excited about this. I think it'll be a great addition to Regionals and to you guys as a tool for your future. Song-writing isn't easy. It's not just about rhyming words or a good hook; it takes a lot of time and effort." He eyes scanned the crowd. "Which is why I want everyone to write their own." At their uncertain groans, he added, "It doesn't have to be epic, it doesn't even have to be worthy of Regionals. In fact, you don't even have to sing it to us if you don't want to. But _write _it. For yourself, for the club, whichever. I want you all to _try!_"

Sam looked at Rachel, who was biting her lip and glancing from him to Mr. Shue. He wrapped his arm around her and squeezed her shoulder. "Rach…" He nodded encouragingly.

Her eyes were wide and hopeful as she took a deep breath and looked up at Mr. Shue. "Actually…" She sat forward a little. "I may have been exercising my inner songwriter since I last brought up the idea…"

"Her song is _awesome_," Sam supported, sitting a little straighter. "She finished the lyrics today and I totally think we could take Regionals with it."

She smiled up at him, softer, like she appreciated him for believing in her.

"That's great." Mr. Shue waved at her. "C'mon, Rachel, show us what you've got…"

Rachel stood, wringing her hands a little. "Please remember that it may be a little rough…" She looked around at the gathered gleeks worriedly. "I ask that you keep any cutting criticism to a dull roar."

Sam grabbed up a guitar from the side and hung the strap over his shoulder. "She's just nervous…" He grinned widely.

She half-rolled her eyes, but a faint flush reddened her cheeks. "Sam, you'll sing lead male," she told him, moving so they were standing side-by side.

Proudly grinning, he bumped her shoulder with his and strummed the guitar in his hands, tuning it just to be sure. Leaning down, he asked, "Ready?"

She looked up at him. "To debut the collective works of Sam Evans and Rachel Berry? _Absolutely_." She beamed.

Chuckling under his breath, he got into his rhythm, his pace quick and easy.

Rocking her hips side to side, she grinned out at the crowd.

_Yeah, you may think that I'm a zero…  
__But, hey, everyone you wanna be,  
__Probably started off like me!_

She pointed back at herself, rocking her head to the side.

_You may say that I'm a freak-show (I don't care),  
__But, hey, give me just a little time  
__I bet you're gonna change your mind!_

Pressing a hand to her stomach, she smiled up at Sam as she sang with a little more gusto,

_All of the dirt you've been throwin' my way,  
__It ain't so hard to take, that's right!  
__'Cause I know one day you'll be screamin' my name,  
__And I'll just look away, that's right!_

Dancing, she circled around him, bouncing from foot to foot, really singing for the crowd now, letting them hear all that strength Sam knew she had in her.

_Just go ahead and hate on me and run your mouth,  
__So everyone can hear!  
__Hit me with the words you got and knock me down,  
__Baby, I don't care!  
__Keep it up, I'm tunin' up to fade you out,  
__You wanna be,  
__You wanna be,  
__A loser like me…  
__A loser like me…_

Foot tapping, head rocking, Sam smiled as he took a step forward to sing the male lead.

_Push me up against the locker,  
And hey, all I do is shake it off,  
I'll get you back when I'm your boss!_

He shook his head as she smiled widely up at him, nodding.

_I'm not thinkin' 'bout you haters…  
'Cause hey, I could be a superstar,  
I'll see you when you wash my car!_

Rachel covered her mouth, laughing happily, before she threw her hands wide and circled him to sing once more, pointing out to the crowd as she crooned.

_All of the dirt you've been throwin' my way,  
It ain't so hard to take, that's right!  
'Cause I know one day you'll be screamin' my name,  
And I'll just look away, that's right!_

He joined her again for the chorus, dancing in place to the beat.

_Just go ahead and hate on me and run your mouth,  
So everyone can hear.  
Hit me with the words you got and knock me down,  
Baby, I don't care!  
Keep it up, I'm tunin' up to fade you out,  
You wanna be,  
You wanna be,_

They turned to each other, singing,

_A loser like me…  
A loser like me…  
A loser like me…_

She step-skipped away from him to face the crowd and pointed from person to person as she sang.

_Hey, you, over there,  
Keep the L up-up in the air!_

Moving to the beat, they listened, and Sam grinned as Mercedes and Tina through their hands up in the air in the L symbol.

_Hey, you, over there,  
Keep the L up, 'cause I don't care!_

Laughing, Puck and Mike did the same.

_You can throw your sticks, _

_And you can throw your stones,_

She motioned from Quinn to Finn and then threw her hands up and pointed at the ceiling before clapping her hands along to the beat.

_Like a rocket, just watch me go!  
Yeah, l-o-s-e-r  
I can only be who I are!_

Throwing her head back, she belted out, _Yeah… _While the rest of the club joined together to stand and sing the chorus with him.

_Just go ahead and hate on me and run your mouth,  
So everyone can hear.  
Hit me with the words you got and knock me down,  
Baby, I don't care!  
Keep it up, I'm tunin' up to fade you out,  
You wanna be,  
You wanna be,  
A loser like me…_

Dancing back, she stood next to Sam, singing along with him as the chorus finished off their song one last time.

_Just go ahead and hate on me and run your mouth,  
So everyone can hear.  
Hit me with the words you got and knock me down,  
Baby, I don't care!  
Keep it up, I'm tunin' up to fade you out,  
You wanna be,  
You wanna be,  
A loser like me (A loser like me)…  
A loser like me (A loser like me)…_

And as the room quieted, even the guitar going silent, she sang the last few words alone.

_A loser like me…_

And just like he knew it would be, the song was an instant hit. The gleeks all rushed down from their chairs for high-fives and to tell her how awesome her song was. Putting the guitar away, Sam stood back and watched. She deserved this. She worked really hard and she didn't always get the attention she deserved. He was really proud of her and happy to see the others were too. That and he was feeling really high off her song; like it had spoken to something directly inside of him and it felt _good_.

Laughing, Rachel bounced on spot and enjoyed their praise.

It wasn't until Mr. Shuester started clapping that they quieted down to look at him. "Amazing," he told her, nodding. "I think we've got one of our songs for Regionals!"

Squealing, Rachel turned, scanned the crowd and spotting him, rushed over to jump into Sam's arms, hugging him tightly. "Thank you," she murmured against his shoulder.

"You did all the hard work," he reminded.

"No…" When she pulled back, she turned around. "Mr. Shue, I'd like to ask that Sam sing male lead at Regionals… At least for my song." She put her hands to her hips defiantly.

"Wait, _what?_" Finn demanded, stepping forward. "_I'm _lead."

"Yes, and I'm _female _lead, but Mr. Shue's made it obvious in previous competitions that the highlighted singers are not always the leads…" She motioned beside her and said, "For example, Sam and Quinn sang at sectionals."

"And we _lost!_" Finn reminded, adding, "No offense," dismissively.

"Yes, well… I happen to think that my and Sam's voices meld very nicely together." She nodded. "Plus, it's not my song alone. Sam wrote the music for it, making it just as much his accomplishment as mine and thus I think he deserves to sing his part in it."

"I agree," Mr. Shue said, nodding.

"But Mr. Shue—" Finn complained.

"Finn… There's still Nationals. And we're still working on a second song as well. Maybe your song will be the one we want representing us. And if it is, then I won't argue with you singing it. But this is Sam's and Rachel's song and I have to say… I'm really blown away by it." He turned back to them and grinned. "You guys have shown a lot of hard work and courage writing your own song together and showcasing it to us. I'm really proud of you!"

"Thanks!" Sam said, wrapping an arm around Rachel's shoulder and looking down at her. "Told you so!"

She half-rolled her eyes affectionately, smiling up at him. "Thank you Mr. Shue, not only for your praise but for believing that our lyrical prose is enough to win us Regionals." She wrapped an arm around Sam's waist and squeezed.

As glee was wrapping up, Mr. Shue told them all to get to work on their songs and that they'd all get back together on Thursday to see how it was coming. While everyone was distracted discussing new song ideas, they slipped out of the choir room. In a good mood, Rachel was acting a lot more physically affectionate. She kept reaching out and taking his hand as they walked to his locker, threading their fingers and rubbing her thumb along his wrist before letting go to wave her hands wildly as she told him how thrilling it was to sing and see their surprised expressions staring back at her. He admitted only to himself that his eyes stayed on her basically the whole song; there were a few times he checked to see if they liked it, but he loved how she danced around and put her whole body into every word she sang.

Walking backwards now, she smiled up at him, her mouth moving a mile a minute. "Oh, I can't wait, Sam! We're going to blow them away at Nationals! They'll all be expecting some overused pop sensation and we'll walk out there and they'll be _slack-jawed! _Nobody will expect it! And that's what will put us ahead of the competition! They can sing any song they want and it still won't compare!" Excited, she stopped and he almost ran into her but then she leapt up and wrapped her arms around his neck, her toes barely brushing the floor. "I know I already said it and I'm probably getting repetitive, but… I really couldn't do this without you!"

He wrapped his arms around her tiny waist and squeezed. "Yeah, you could've… You're pretty amazing, y'know?"

She leaned back a little to stare up at him, her eyes big and a little shiny. "You make me _feel _amazing," she murmured. "I mean…" Her cheeks flushed. "My daddies say it and sometimes, when I'm singing, I feel like I can do _anything_… But then the high wears off or their words fade and I'm standing in a school full of people who hate me for no understandable reason and… And I don't feel like I'm much of anything. But…" She swallowed tightly. "Having you in my life, being your friend… It changes things… Changes how I see even myself." She half-smiled. "So I'm not just thanking you for writing the music, Sam, I'm… I'm thanking you for taking a chance on being my friend."

"I think maybe I should be thanking you…" He shook his head. "Before you came along, I was pretending to be somebody else and I thought it was okay, but now… Now I'm _me _and I've never been happier…" Struggling for the words to make her understand, he smiled and leaned down to kiss her forehead before hugging her tighter and resting his chin on her shoulder. "Maybe we make each other cool, y'know? Like we don't need anybody else if we've got each other."

She sniffled, nodding against him. "I rather like that idea."

He held onto for awhile longer, happy just to stand there in the middle of the hallway and breathe in her flowery shampoo.

"Hey love-birds, keep it in the showers, huh?" Santana called, interrupting them.

As they broke apart, they looked back to see her smirking at them.

"What a pleasant interruption," Rachel muttered, half-rolling her eyes.

"Hey, you're gonna thank me in a second…" She nodded her head back to the choir room. "You guys left before they could grill you about what's going on between you two… I think Mercedes wants the dirty deets to tell Beyonce all about your mid-day shower hook-up…" She wiggled her fingers. "I'd scram if I were you two… Frankenteen looks like he's out for blood. Nice move stealing his spotlight and handing it over to his competition, Berry."

Sam's brows furrowed. "Thanks, San… for the head's up."

She rolled her eyes dismissively, shrugging a shoulder. "Whatever."

Rachel smiled before turning and taking his hand once more. "Come on, Sam… If we get out of here before they surround us, I think we might have time to complete our homework and still get in a personal screening of Avatar at your house…" She grinned up at him. "I think it's time I meet the illustrious 'Grams'!"

He grinned, pumping his fist. "This day is totally getting better!" He frowned then, looking down at her worriedly. "Hey, you're not gonna be upset when she frisks you, right?"

Rachel blinked. "_Frisks _me?"

"It's not as invasive as you think," Santana laughed before turning and walking way, hips swaying. She waved back at them. "Later losers!"

"It's just a precaution," he muttered, half-frowning. "She thinks everybody's a drug addict and…" He shrugged. "She just wants to make sure you're not bringing it in the house."

Rachel shook her head, sighing. "Fine… I'll just have to get rid of my methamphetamine stash before we get to your house…" She tapped her chin. "Now, _who _to plant it on…?"

Snorting, he shook his head, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, encouraging them to start walking again. "Karofsky?"

"Perhaps… Ooh, or Coach Sylvester." Her eyes gleamed as she bounced excitedly. "I imagine that would put her and Aural Intensity out of the running."

He grinned. "You're a scary, devious woman, Rachel Berry."

She smirked up at him. "Thank you."

Funny thing was, he was pretty sure he really _was _complimenting her. Maybe she was rubbing off on him after all…

[**Next**: Chapter VIII.]


	9. Chapter VIII

**Title**: All These Labels  
**Category**: Glee  
**Genre**: Humor/Romance  
**Ship**: Rachel/Sam  
**Rating**: Teen (subject to change)  
**Warning(s)**: Spoilers for Sexy and the **promo** to Original Song  
**Word Count**: 6,433  
**Summary**: When Santana asked Rachel to distract Sam she had no idea what it would lead to. But it certainly surpassed her expectations and more.

**_All These Labels_**  
-Novel-

**VIII**.

"You're sure you want to do this?" He wiped his hands down his jeans and fidgeted, looking at her from the corner of his eyes.

"Sam…" She smiled. "While I'm sure your grandmother fits the bill for kooky and eccentric and I've convinced myself I'm ready for her first-meeting frisk, I can't help but believe that she must be a good person if she managed to raise a boy such as yourself."

He half-smiled, lips spreading wide as he ducked his head a little, blonde hair falling in his eyes. "She's just a little… intense," he explained.

Her eyes lit up. "I happen to think that's a wonderful word to describe a person." She grinned. "I've been called intense _many _times!"

He laughed a little. "I'm not sure you're the same _kind _of intense…"

Reaching out, she took his hand and squeezed. "Trust me… We'll get along just fine!"

He took a deep breath, leaned back in his seat and then nodded. "Okay."

They climbed out of her car and each paused to get their bags; she kept her trolley in her trunk but she was starting to think that alongside his in the backseat made for better access. After locking her Prius, she stepped back and waited for him to line up next to her. He fiddled with the strap of his bag over his shoulder and then looked from her to the woman peering out through the curtains. His cheeks turned an attractive shade of pink.

She reached over and slid her fingers through his; she knew that it wasn't necessarily a _friendly _gesture, but she wanted to offer reassurance and it just seemed the most effective way. "I have two daddies, both of whom are outgoing and talk as much as, if not _more_, than I do…" She grinned. "I can handle just about anything any adult can throw at me."

"Okay… Just make eye-contact and, um, please don't get scared away."

She giggled a little and shook her head. "I've never done any drugs, Sam. Recreational or otherwise. I have a perfect attendance record, maintain a 4.0 gpa and I plan to have a very bright future ahead of me… I'm what Noah might call a parental 'wetdream.'"

He snorted. "I don't know if that's good or just weird."

She shrugged a shoulder. "Probably a little of both."

Licking his lips, he nodded, and then propelled them forward to follow the walkway to the front door. He glanced one last time at her nervously before opening the door and walking inside. She kept in step with him and smiled widely at the woman now sitting in an armchair, as if she hadn't been spying on them literally seconds before. He grinned at her, affection showing in his face. "Hey grams!" he greeted, toeing his sneakers off. "Um, this is Rachel. I, uh, told you about her…" His eyes darted back to her. "She's a, um, friend… from school…"

"You mean the one you left that pretty Hispanic girl for?" she said sharply, her eyes narrowing and looking Rachel up and down. "Isn't that skirt a little short?"

"It fits into the school dress code just fine. I measured myself," she answered, not even slightly surprised. She happened to get that look a lot; it was just rare that anybody voiced the question. "It's very nice to meet you, Mrs. Evans." She took a step forward. "You've raised a very intelligent and nice grandson."

Grams, Rachel regretted not asking her first name, stood from her flower-patterned armchair and walked toward Rachel, her head tipped slightly. She was an average woman, both in height and build. Her hair had greyed, but there were sparse patches of blonde threaded throughout that told her she once had the same coloring as her grandson. And her eyes were just as piercing a shade of green, but sharper, perhaps more attentive than her grandson's were. The thing Rachel noticed about Sam was that he seemed to take many things at face value rather than critique or delve too deeply. If a person looked nice, he assumed they were nice. It was a naïve perspective, she guessed, which probably helped in the disintegration of his and Quinn's relationship; he hadn't noticed right away that her attention had taken an abrupt turn toward Finn. And when he had, he'd still been willing to pretend it hadn't, if only to keep her. She didn't imagine Grams was the same. In fact, she thought Grams was the type who took every single person apart, dissecting their every word and action until she had an acute sense of who they were and what they wanted. Seeing as her intentions toward Sam were nothing but true, Rachel wasn't the least bit perturbed to let her do her digging.

"So, Rachel and I were gonna do some homework and maybe watch a movie," Sam interrupted, looking between them.

"You want to take her up to your room, _unsupervised?_" his Grams asked, grey-blonde brows raised.

"We'll gladly leave the door open and welcome any surprise visits you might entertain," Rachel suggested, clasping her hands together. "Of course, if you'd rather we do our homework downstairs, that's fine too. Sam wanted to work on his math and I had hoped to help him through some of the more complicated equations."

"You're tutoring him?" she asked, lips pursed. "My grandson makes fine grades… Better than some of your peers, who spend their nights getting high rather than studying."

"Their loss and mistake," she agreed. "I think Sam's very smart, perhaps more than he gives even himself credit for. But he's asked for my help in some of his classes and I feel it's only right to offer any assistance I can."

"You're a good student?"

"The best to my abilities, ma'am."

"What's your opinion on drugs, Rachel?" Grams wondered, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Gram…" Sam sighed.

She raised a finger to shush him. "We're making polite conversation, Sammy, I'll thank you not to interrupt."

"One of my fathers is a doctor, so I understand the need for prescribed drugs… Even medicinal marijuana in cases such as Glaucoma. But any other substances, for recreational purposes, I do not agree with whatsoever… I'm only sixteen and I have a lifetime of goals to accomplish. Ruining those chances now would be devastating and wholly unforgiveable on my part."

Grams nodded, but kept her expression stoic. "_One _of your fathers?"

Rachel's back stiffened, her own eyes narrowing as she took in the curious glint in the woman's eyes. She was willing to play nice, even make sure her good-girl persona was explicitly more clean than usual, but there was one subject that never failed to ignite the flame of protectiveness and that was her dads. "I have _two _dads… They're both very loving parents and I think very highly of them." She stared, waiting for Grams opinion before she verbally defamed the woman and likely lost any chance at a friendship with the boy behind her, his hand resting on the small of her back.

"You're family oriented then," she said, not a question but a statement. Her lips curved ever so slightly. "I hope you understand, dear, Sammy is the only family I have left… His mother's unfortunate death makes me kind of… protective." She let her clasped hands fall to her waist. "He tells me I worry too much but I'm afraid I can't help it…" She tipped her head. "You clearly care very much about your dads."

She nodded. "They're my best friends." She smiled, looking over her shoulder. "Although recently, they've had some competition."

Sam grinned back at her.

"Why don't you two head up and do your homework then?" Gram nodded. "Sammy, there's money in the jar, why don't you order pizza for dinner tonight?"

Flashing his grandma a grateful grin, he went into the kitchen to get the money and came back with the phone in hand. "We were gonna watch Avatar after, if you wanna watch it too."

She rolled her eyes, waving her hands at him. "You and your blue people…" she sighed, shaking her head. "I'll never understand…"

He just laughed, apparently used to her saying that, and then grabbed the handle to Rachel's trolley bag. "C'mon…" He climbed the stairs, bag in hand, and Rachel followed him up, pausing to wave goodbye to gram.

As they walked into his room, he closed the door and chuckled. "I think you're the first person who didn't get a pat down."

"Should I be flattered?" She twirled to smile up at him.

"I thinks so."

"I like your room," she told him. "It's very… unique."

He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "It's geeky, you can say it."

She shook her head. "I think it captures the many facets of your personality." She motioned to the work-out gear near the window and the football cleats tossed next to them. "There's your physically proactive part that enjoys sports and the adrenaline rush of male bonding activities." She motioned to the Avatar poster above his bed. "Your clear love for all things cinematically engaging." Her gaze darted to his action figures, lined up in front of his many comic books, "And your artistic side that enjoys both the structure of other people's characters, their flaws and super-human abilities…" She nodded her chin toward the papers scattered amongst his drawing tools, "And the side the has a talent for creating your own worlds and characters as well." Hands on her hips, she looked around his room approvingly before settling on the stereo system, "And of course, how could I forget the musical genius that lies inside you?" She walked toward the stack of CDs and began perusing. "Yes, I think your room is geeky, just as much as it's sporty, artistic, and uniquely _yours_."

When she looked back at him, his brows were furrowed, and he was smiling lopsidedly, like she'd surprised or perhaps confused him.

"What would you like to listen to?" she wondered.

His brows rose. "Huh?"

She smiled. "While we work," she explained. "I've read studies that state classical music is great for stirring the mind into action, helping to stimulate the thought process and encourage better studying. But…" She put on a mix CD of his and rocked her hips side to side, swaying to the slow, deep beat. "I think having a nice beat to work to is far more relaxing, especially if the work one is dedicating themselves to at the time is frustrating."

"Oh, I'm frustrated," he muttered, shifting his feet.

She raised a brow.

He cleared his throat, looking down at their bags. "So, um, math then?"

She nodded. "Would you like to order the pizza first?"

"Yeah, sure, I wanted to check with you first though. I'm not sure where we can get vegan pizza…" He frowned. "You can eat pizza, right?"

Since the idea that she couldn't truly seemed to disappoint him, like he was sad she was missing out on something, she smiled, nodding. "Yes, Sam, I can eat pizza. It just can't have any dairy products in it, like cheese."

"Cheese is awesome," he argued.

"I'm sure to you, it does seem that way…" she allowed. "But as a vegan, I don't imbibe any dairy products whatsoever." She flounced over to him. "Panago has a vegan friendly sauce and crust… So I can get half vegetarian, no cheese, and you can get whatever you like on yours…" She clasped her hands behind her back. "If that's all right with you?"

"Yeah, sure." He crossed the room to his laptop and looked up the number for Panago while she took out their books and arranged them on the floor. She laid down in front of her book and drew her legs up into the air, crossed at the ankle, rocking back and forth to the beat of the song playing. He plopped down across from her and opened the book to the right page before turning his binder and grabbing up a pencil. "So you already know all this stuff, right?"

"I think I'm fairly efficient in it…" She tapped her chin with her pencil. "Read it aloud to me and tell me what you think needs to be done and we'll work from there." He nodded, hunching over his book to read the equation. She watched as he played distractedly with the ends of his hair, frowning in concentration. He read it through twice before reading it aloud to her and when he looked over, a little chagrined that he didn't get it but earnestly comfortable enough with her to be certain she'd explain it and _not _judge him, she felt like this was the first friendship she'd ever engaged in where there was no bad blood to put behind them or misunderstandings to overcome. They were just two people walking the same path, happy to have somebody there to share it with. She wished she hadn't been so wrapped up in Finn when Sam first arrived, that she'd paid more attention to the fair-haired football player who just wanted to fit in _and _sing…

"Rach?" He smiled at her. "You zoning out on me?"

Yes, she was. And oddly enough, her gaze had been on his lips nearly the entire time. "I'm sorry…" She shook her head. "I got lost in my head."

"Need some help finding your way out?"

She looked up at him and how his hair seemed to dance right into his eyes; she couldn't blame it, he did have a very entrancing gaze. "I've found my way out…" She shook her head. "I suppose even when you know there's no point, there's a part of you that wants to make up for past mistakes… For not seeing something that was in front of you the whole time. For being blind, as it were. Thankfully… I regained my sight and here you are."

His brows furrowed. "I'm pretty sure that made a lot more sense to you than me."

She laughed. "Yes, you're probably right." She sighed. "I wonder if perhaps I hadn't been so wrapped up in Finn at the beginning of the year, if you and I might've engaged in a friendship earlier on."

He pursed his lips thoughtfully and lifted a shoulder. "I dunno… I think, maybe… Maybe I was too distracted my Quinn and wanting to fit in that I wasn't like… _ready_, y'know?" He looked at her honestly. "When I first got to McKinley, I wanted to be cool and liked and I didn't really see anything wrong in being less geeky to get that… But I think I get it now, why it's wrong to pretend to be somebody I'm not… Maybe I had to know that and like, know that it didn't make me happy before I could be happy just…" He shrugged. "Just being me… With you."

She nodded. "I think you're right… I think I may have needed to be with Finn, to see where it would lead and how it would feel, before I could understand what life outside of him would be like… I'd convinced myself so thoroughly that our lives were meant to be entwined that I'd lost sight of who I was without him… And now that I don't have him, I'm starting to recognized that our relationship wasn't always stable or healthy… And that perhaps I'd been lost in translation when I was with him, lost in a way that I'm not with you…" Her brows furrowed. "I'm not sure that Finn wanted me to change, but I am sure that I _did _change when I was with him…" She looked up at him. "Am I making any sense?"

"Yeah… I think people change when their in relationships… Not always for the better but not always for the worse." He frowned. "When I was with Quinn, I was popular and she made me feel cool. She made me feel like… Like I was special or something…" He shook his head. "I dunno… But then there were these other times when she wanted me to be like, _less _me… So I'd fit in or… Or maybe so she'd fit in _despite _being with me…" He tapped his pencil against his book. "Santana was kinda like that too, so I guess I kinda thought that was just how girls were and then…" His eyes darted up to hers. "Then you were there and you weren't like them, like at all… In a really good way."

She smiled gently. "I like who you are… I don't think you should have to change for anybody… And I hope you won't."

"I'm gonna try really hard not to."

"Good."

"You shouldn't either, y'know?" He smiled down at her widely. "Maybe you're not cool by McKinley's standards, but in my books? You're awesome."

She felt a flush warm her cheeks and her eyes fell. "Thank you."

A knock at his door interrupted them and they turned to see his gram as she peeked through the door. "I think the pizza's here, Sammy."

"I'm comin'," he told her, pushing up to his feet. As he walked to the door, he looked back. "You want anything to drink?"

"Just water, please."

He nodded before turning to leave.

She stared at the empty doorway a long moment and sighed to herself. The bubbly feeling in her stomach just kept coming back, worse and worse with each minute spent with him. It wasn't a bad feeling; it was a very _good _feeling. But it was a feeling she knew could lead to things she didn't want, or perhaps that she just wanted to avoid. She liked Sam, she really did, and she wanted to _continue _liking him. She wanted for their friendship to remain untainted by her rocky history of falling for boys who couldn't, or wouldn't, love her as much as she did them. And while Sam was a beautiful person, with an even nicer soul, she didn't want Quinn's prophecy to come true. That he would be with her, even care for her, but that his heart would remain with his first love and once more Rachel would be shafted by romance.

She told herself that the bubbly feeling in her stomach was just happiness at being praised, at being accepted and liked, and then she set out to help him with his homework and not sully it with unwanted tension or desire. But every time he laughed, her stomach clenched, every time he grinned at her, her heart beat a little faster, and when he wiped the vegan pizza sauce from the corner of her mouth with his thumb she thought her skin might have rippled from head to toe with excitement. Still, though, she was steady in her resolve.

She would not fall for Sam Evans.

…

Sam was excited. He rubbed his hands together as he popped in the movie and took a seat on his bed, his legs crossed at the ankle. Rachel was just finishing up telling her dads she'd be home after the movie ended. They'd already put away their finished homework and still had enough time to get in Avatar before her curfew and he was really happy that somebody else was actually _willing _to watch it with him. He maybe made his grandma watch it too many times and now she just waved him off every time he brought it up. Her loss. 'Cause Avatar was the _best _movie ever made.

"Yes daddy, Sam has assured me that the movie is just under three hours and since we live so close, I have every reason to believe I will be home in time… If you and dad happen to go to bed before that time, please remember that I love you both, hugs and kisses, and I will see you in the morning… Okay… Yes…" She smiled, shaking her head. "I love you just as much." She nodded before making a kissing noise and hanging up. "They're very affectionate… and gossipy."

"That's cool… Grams' gets like that with her bridge buddies."

Smiling, she crossed to take a seat next to him.

For a second, all he could think that he was on a bed with Rachel. Rachel was on his bed. As she turned to lean back against the pillows he'd set up against the headboard, her hair brushed his shoulder and their thighs touched. When she was settled, he held up the remote. "Ready?" He winced when his voice cracked a bit.

She simply nodded, resting her hands in her lap. "Do you have the extended edition?" she wondered.

He smirked proudly. "I made sure I got every extra minute they had."

She chuckled, leaning back a little. "Good… I don't want to miss a second."

He smiled at her.

As the movie played, he found his eyes kept darting from his screen to her. It was the first time he'd ever been distracted from the world of Pandora and its incredible characters. Usually, he could block out the rest of the world when Avatar was playing; there was nobody and nothing more interesting than what happened there. But with Rachel next to him, he kept thinking that she smelled _really _good. Like flowery or coconuty or something. He maybe leaned over and breathed in to get a better idea. She glanced at him and he held his breath, 'cause he thought she might call him on how weird he was being. But she just flashed a smile and then turned back to the movie. From the angle, he could see the movie playing in her eyes, flashes of blue across deep brown, it seemed to dance across her, highlighting the hollows of her cheeks, the length of her neck. She wasn't pretty, he realized. She was… _beautiful_.

His mouth parted a little at the realization, his eyes widening slightly. Recognizing your friend was beautiful was one thing, being awed by it was another. He shifted a little, but every time he moved half of his body seemed to brush against her. The whole left side of him seemed to be touching her arm or her thigh or foot. Or, okay, she was a lot shorter, so it was like her foot touching his calf, but same deal. She looked over at him, her lips pursed. "Are you uncomfortable?" She glanced down. "You can put your arm back if it's easier."

Because he didn't want to tell her that like _all _of him was touching some part of her and it was making him a little too _aware_, he just did what she suggested. He slid his arm back to lay against the pillows behind her and at first he thought it was okay. But then he realized her hair was brushing his forearm and it was really soft; like it kind of tickled. Brows knotted together, he swallowed tightly and looked back at the movie. He knew he shouldn't be thinking of her like this. But thinking about her seemed to be all he did lately. When he wasn't with her, he wondered what she was doing. When he was with her, he wondered how to make her smile or laugh or just look at him. And now his favorite movie was on and she was entranced like he usually was and for some reason that was really, _really _hot.

"If you had to guess, how many times would you say you've watched this?" she wondered, looking over at him, her eyes crinkled at the corners in humor.

"Uh…" He rubbed the back of his neck, looking up and away in thought. "I went to see it in the theatre like… six times…" He felt his cheeks flush. Much as dork he was about Avatar, he never admitted that aloud. "But since I got it on DVD…? I dunno, maybe twenty or so… Probably more." He laughed, ducking his head. "I can't help it. There's something just really awesome about their world."

She nodded. "I think it's the natural beauty of everything, of how they praise it rather than want to change it in anyway… Even when they kill the animals, they do so for food or out of protection for another and they _recognize _that it's sad, that it's unfortunate that another life must end for theirs to continue…" Her brow wrinkled as she stared at the screen. "And then we have the soldiers come in and they don't care about tradition or what's right, they only see dollar signs… So they laugh as they destroy the beauty before them, but Jake and the others, they won't fall prey to those delusions of grandeur, those misunderstandings of people because they're different… They stand up and they fight for what they believe in and there's nothing quite so awe inspiring as a person who stands up and says no to adversity…" She grinned up at him. "It reminds me of Dylan Thomas, actually…" At his quirked brow, she recited, "_Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light_…"

He nodded. "I like that."

"It's a classic…" She looked back at the screen. "How do you think Mr. Shue would react if I suggested we make Avatar into a musical?"

He laughed. "I'd see that."

She beamed up at him. "Twenty or so times?"

She looked so beautiful, blue dancing over her face and hair. "More," he breathed.

She leaned over and bumped his shoulder with hers. "Then I'll ask… And since he'll likely turn me down, I offer you this instead… Ten years from now, at the tender age of twenty-six, when I've no doubt already won my Tony and blown the entirety of New York away with my amazing talent…" She smirked laughingly. "I will write, produce and star in Avatar: The Musical, and you, my dear sir, will play my Jake Sully!"

He grinned and took one of her hands, raising it so he could kiss the back. Looking up at her through his bangs, he told her, "It'd be my _honor_, Miss Berry."

Her smile softened. "Perhaps I'll star in a musical remix of one of your graphic novels one day too…"

Thinking of the tight, skimpy and very attractive outfits many of his female superheroes wore, he grinned widely and fist-pumped. "_Awesome!"_

She laughed sweetly before leaning back into his arm and resting her head against his shoulder, getting more comfortable as she got back into the movie.

And for the next two hours, Sam alternated between playing with her hair and imaging Rachel in full blue body paint. He had to eventually silently apologize to Coach Beiste for having her make a reappearance to keep things from getting awkward. It was really Rachel's fault; she probably shouldn't smell that good or nuzzle his neck accidentally if she wasn't expecting _some _kind of reaction. And he was just a teenage boy, after all… with a really hot girl for a best friend.

_Ugh._ Life was _so_ not fair.

…

Rachel was still grinning as she pulled into her driveway. Avatar was, as usual, a beautifully put together film. And despite her earlier misgivings about her feelings toward Sam, she had been perfectly friendly as they sat together side by side to engage in movie watching. If she happened to nuzzle his neck a few times because he smelled entirely too good, that was just a natural physiological reaction that she couldn't be held accountable for. And he didn't seem to mind or notice, although he did wiggle around a lot. Perhaps he had restless leg syndrome. She decided to look it up and research its symptoms.

So happy was she about her evening at the Evans house, that she didn't notice the beat-up yellow car sitting right behind her daddy's vehicle. She fairly skipped up the pathway to her house and walked inside to call out cheerfully, "Dad! Daddy! I'm _ho-ome!_" Checking the time, she added, "And just as I suspected, I'm well under the wire for my curfew." She kicked off her flats and walked through the lower floor, in search of her parents.

"We're in here, Bunny!" her daddy called.

She rolled her eyes. "Daddy, I've _told _you, referring to _here _as a location does very little to point me in your direction, I—" She stumbled to a surprised stop in the kitchen when she set eyes on none other than Santana Lopez, sharing _tea _with her dads. Her mouth gaped slightly. "Tonight my house, yesterday Sam's, can I assume you're making the rounds to _all _the gleeks?" she wondered.

Santana snorted. "Hi to you too, Berry."

She frowned. "I apologize, that was rude of me. I've been taught better manners…" She looked between her dads and then back at Santana. "Hello Santana, it's nice to see you. May I ask what brings you to my home at this late hour?"

"I've been here since six… Leroy fed me and Hiram has _the _best 'so-and-so walks into a bar' jokes I've ever heard." She grinned. "And trust me; I know some pretty dirty jokes."

"On that note…" Leroy stood. "Rachel, honey, I think Santana would like to speak to you privately… Your daddy and I will be watching the news…" He waved his husband out of the kitchen. "Have fun, girls."

Rachel watched them go before moving to sit at the island across from the Latina girl. "After this afternoon, I expected you would avoid us for awhile, possibly take a personal inventory, decide we were more deserving of your friendship than you'd previously deduced, and extend an olive branch some time before the end of the week."

Santana blinked. "Yeah… If you think I spend _that _much time thinking about you and Sammy, you're crazier than I thought…" She admired her nails in a dismissive manner. "After school I went home and I dunno, I was just thinking about what you said the other day…"

"You will have to be more specific as I'm certain that I've said a great many things over the last—"

"About your _dads_, Berry… And how they'd like, _listen _or whatever… Maybe gimme some feedback on this whole… _thing_…" She lowered her hand to tap her nails along the table top and shrugged. "So I stopped by Casa Berry and surprise, surprise, you were off at Sammy's playing girlfriend to his inner-geek…" She rolled her eyes. "But your dads are cool… Must skip a generation."

Rachel pursed her lips. "It astounds me how easily you can insult a person while complimenting their parentage in the _same _sentence."

Santana winked at her. "_Skills_."

She hummed. "I assume it was enlightening then… The conversation you engaged in?"

"Yeah, sure… I mean, the anatomy's different, so there was some confusion, but I guess being gay translates if you got boobs or—"

"Yes, I get the general direction of that sentence," Rachel interrupted, holding up a hand. Taking a deep breath, she smiled. "You know, I'm really very glad that you took this step, to reach out in search of understanding… I had thought you might look to Sam or I, but I see now that our heterosexuality may have been a hindrance, I—"

"Yeah, whatever," she interrupted. "Look, I just…" She groaned, frowning. "I mean, _thanks_, y'know? For like, letting me borrow your dads… even if you didn't know I was."

She chuckled lightly. "You are welcome to borrow them any time you need."

She nodded, looking away. "Cool." She sighed, pushing back from the table. "Well, I'm gonna go… My parents don't trust me as much as yours and I was supposed to be home like, an hour ago…"

"I can have my dads call and let them know that you were here, if it helps."

"Nah." She waved a hand and stood. "S'good."

Rachel walked her out, smiling when she stopped to say goodbye to her dads. "Later, daddies-Berry, thanks for the chat!"

"It was wonderful meeting you, Santana," her dad said. "We hope to see more of you around here."

"Uh, yeah…" She glanced at Rachel before smiling genuinely back at her dads. "Only if you promise to make that kugel shit again!"

He laughed. "It's a guarantee, dear."

"Cool. See you guys." She walked to the door, nodding her chin up at Rachel in farewell.

"Oh! Santana…" Rachel stepped out onto the stoop in front of her door. "Sam and I will be going bowling tomorrow, after glee practice… We were wondering if you might like to come?"

"And play third wheel to your geek-fest?" She scoffed, smirking. "No thanks."

Her shoulders slumped a little. "Well if you change your mind…"

She waved behind her dismissively. "I _won't_."

Rachel frowned, watching as she hopped in her car, pulled out, and drove off. Her eyes narrowed determinedly. She was going to get Santana Lopez to accept her hand in friendship if it was the last she did!

Marching back inside, already wondering about a plan of action, she almost didn't hear her dads when they called out to her. Stumbling back, she raised a brow as they patted a spot between them, just wide enough for her to squeeze in. Rolling her eyes affectionately, she crossed the living room and sat down. "Yes daddies?"

"Santana's a lovely girl… Very colorful language, but lovely nonetheless," her dad told her, patting her knee.

"Yes, I'm aware… Although I have to admit that lovely would not be the most used adjective regarding her…"

Her daddy raised a knowing brow. "You know, Bunny… We all react to our peculiarities differently…" At her furrowed brow, Hiram explained, "When we recognize something in ourselves that's different from others, that doesn't jive with the norm, we tend to focus on it, nit-pick it to death, and when it becomes more apparent, we fight it, doing everything we can to fit in…" He took her hand and squeezed. "You are the exception; you _embraced _your differences… I'm not sure it was so easy for Santana. It's one thing to have a larger nose or to speak more coherently than your peers, but to question your sexuality? That's confusing and makes you stand out even when you don't want to…" He shook his head, smiling gently. "But you know? I think having you as a friend, as somebody to confide in, that may just be the turning point she needs…"

She harrumphed. "Yes, well, you may want to tell _her _that… because she's consistently shot down every hand of friendship Sam and I have extended…" She stared up at them with wide eyes. "I may be new to this friendship thing, but I think I've been quite patient."

Her dad grinned. "And how long have you been trying to be friends with her, dear?"

"Well…" Her nose wrinkled. "Since Monday, really. Although we'd first become aligned on Sunday."

"I see… You realize it's only Tuesday, right?"

She sighed. "Fine… I know you're only reminding me that I have very little patience."

"You get that from your daddy," Leroy said, raising his brows emphatically.

"I resent that!"

He chuckled. "I'm sure you do… Doesn't _change _anything…"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "If you would please _focus_…"

Her daddy snorted. "Focus? How about we focus on the fact that you're dating that Sam boy that you told us was nothing more than a _friend?_"

Rachel gasped indignantly. "And I assume Santana told you that?"

They nodded, smirking at her.

"Yes, well, she obviously left out a few key facts." Smoothing out her skirt, she told them, "Firstly, Santana asked me to gain Sam's interest or affections if only to turn his attention away from her. I was to the point and honest from the beginning, stating that I would not in anyway lead him on. That if I were to reach out to Sam it would be in _friendship _and nothing more! So that is exactly what Sam and I did, especially after he admitted he knew all about Santana's plan. So you can see that we have to lies between us and thus that previous problem that may have caused an issue will not. Secondly, when we engaged in a relationship, it was a fake, a _ruse _to convince the student body that Sam was more interested in me and thus Santana had reason to break up with him without announcing to them that she was in fact in love with Brittany. Now, _why _you ask, are we still together? To cement Sam's feelings and Santana's misgivings, of course. Come Thursday, we'll break up publicly, he will reach out to Santana in hopes of reconciliation and she can save her sullied reputation by turning him down flat." She nodded sharply. "So I can only assume now that any confusion is cleared up and you know that Sam and I are truly only friends…" She looked up. "Right?"

They grinned back, sing-songing in tune with each other, "Whatever you say, dear."

Exasperated, she rolled her eyes. "You're both ridiculous." Climbing off the couch, she raised a finger into the air. "Hear me now! There is not, nor will there ever be, a romantic relationship between myself and Sam Evans!" With a stomp of her foot, she hurried off to the stairs.

"I'd lay odds he takes her to prom," Leroy mused.

"_Prom!_" Hiram scoffed. "I bet they're together before Regionals."

"Really? That's _exactly _one week from now."

"Yes… But denial can only last so long… And from what Santana told us, those two are on the verge of something wonderful."

"I can't wait to meet him!"

"She said he was a nicer, sweeter Finn with a side of geek! _Oh_, he's the Leroy to her Hiram!" he cried excitedly.

"I'm going to take that as a compliment."

He kissed him adoringly. "As well you should."

"I can still _hear _you!" Rachel called back.

"We know!" they chimed.

Scoffing, she hurried up the rest of her stairs. Much as she loved those two crazy men downstairs, she was sticking to her resolve. Despite the fact that there was a little jubilation welling in her chest, stirring in her stomach, and racing across her skin. No, that was not the tell-tale signs of excitement over the fact that somebody, _anybody_, thought she and Sam would be a good match. That wasn't it at all! And to prove it, she went and researched restless leg syndrome, because she was a very good _friend!_

[**Next**: Chapter IX.]


	10. Chapter IX

**Title**: All These Labels  
**Category**: Glee  
**Genre**: Humor/Romance  
**Ship**: Rachel/Sam  
**Rating**: Teen (subject to change)  
**Warning(s)**: Spoilers for Sexy and the **promo** to Original Song  
**Word Count**: 5,957  
**Summary**: When Santana asked Rachel to distract Sam she had no idea what it would lead to. But it certainly surpassed her expectations and more.

**_All These Labels_**  
-Novel-

**IX. **

Wednesday morning brought a happy Rachel to McKinley. After picking Sam up from his place and waving brightly as Gram spotted and waved to her, she cheerfully drove them to the school. She chose to ignore the way her stomach flip-flopped when he casually took her hand as they strolled through the parking lot. _It's all part of the plan!_ she told herself. And friends held hands! She couldn't name any particular female and male friends she had that did so, but then again she didn't _have _many friends to begin with… She counted Kurt as her friend, even if they spoke mostly through text message and only got together once a week or so, depending on his and Mercedes schedules. And she considered Noah to be a friend as well, but he was busy wooing Lauren and with all their history she thought distance was necessary most of the time. In reality, she thought her closest friend had to be Sam. Quite possibly in her entire life, she'd never been as close or as honest with anybody as she was with him. She wondered what that _meant _in the grand scheme of things…

"You look like you're solving some big issues up there," Sam said, smiling at her brightly.

She looked up at him. "I suppose my mind is always at work, even this early in the morning."

"Anything you wanna talk about?"

She grinned. "You realize you're encouraging long monologues, quite possibly about Broadway or New York or my many detailed plans to overtake the world with my talent...?"

He chuckled. "I can take it."

She felt a flush warm her cheeks as she ducked her head slightly. "I was pondering friendships… The few I've had and how they've grown, fizzled, or affected me."

He nodded, licking his lips. His thumb stroked back and forth along her hand as he told her, "I didn't have a lot of friends before McKinley… At my old school, I felt really different." His eyes darted away and then back, staring at her from beneath his blond bangs. "And when I got here, I figured I had a better chance, right? Nobody knew me so I could be anybody I had to be, anybody they wanted me to be…" He shrugged. "But then when I did, it was weird…" His brows furrowed. "'Cause I got a girlfriend but no real friends…" He frowned. "Like the glee club's cool and the people are really talented, but… I dunno, it was like everybody already had their friends and I was just… Quinn's boyfriend… And then Santana's…" He grinned. "And now _yours_… Kind of."

She squeezed his hand. "Above all else, Sam, you're my _friend_. And I'm yours. Whatever the gossip might have to say, whether we're feigning a relationship to help our fellow gleek, our friendship comes first." She stared up at him firmly. "And I take my friendships _very _seriously."

He half-smiled, bumping her shoulder with his. "I'm lucky to have you."

"It's a mutual luck, I think."

He chuckled, turning them down another hallway toward her locker.

"That reminds me," she said, eyes wide and bright. "I did some researching last night and I found everything I could on Restless Leg Syndrome."

Brows furrowed, he looked down at her wonderingly. "Wait… Did we have more homework than I think we did? 'Cause I don't remember having to look that up…"

"No, silly." She squeezed his hand. "I noticed you were moving around quite a bit last night while we were watching Avatar. I hardly think you noticed, really, or at least you didn't look at me whenever I glanced to see if you were uncomfortable. You were very intensely staring at the TV screen, in fact. But as I was driving home last night, I considered what could possibly cause you to be so, well… _wiggly_…" She smiled. "So I printed off everything they had on Restless Leg Syndrome and I'd like you to look through it, see if any of the other symptoms fit."

He blinked at her. "Yeah…" He licked his lips, looking away. "Sure."

"I hope I'm not overstepping some unknown boundary," she worried, staring up at him. "I realize that it may be something you didn't want highlighted in every day conversation, so if that's what's bothering you, I can promise I won't bring it up in public. I just thought that perhaps it was something easily rectified and that with the right handling of the situation, we might find some way to help you…" Her brows furrowed. "Did you know there was a case study performed inNorth Carolinathat said massages could help too? It involves trigger point therapy, deep tissue and sport massage techniques applied to the lower extremities, focusing on the hamstring muscles… They'd spend forty-five minutes massaging the patients twice a week within two days. Of course, they kept a log to make sure any outside influences were taken down, like caffeine or tobacco." She grinned up at him. "But from what I gathered, the massages managed to help with the tingling and urgency to move."

He swallowed thickly. "Yeah, I don't think you massaging me is gonna help the tingling…" He glanced away. "Hey, so gram thinks you're pretty awesome!"

Deciding he was simply embarrassed about his condition, Rachel allowed him to change the subject. "I'm very glad. She seems like a nice woman, if a little paranoid." They slowed down as they reached her locker and she released his hand so she could put her homework away and take out her needed textbooks. "I don't imagine Santana will appreciate that she had to receive a pat-down, while I was excused from it. Speaking of…" She looked up at him, grinning. "Guess who happened to be at my house when I returned home?"

His brows lifted. "Santana was waiting for you… Was she at least _nice?_"

"Well…" She shook her head side to side, shrugging. "Nice is a relative word when in association with her, I believe. Or at least when she's still got walls up to keep us at a distance."

"So that's a no on her being nice?" He frowned.

"She mostly came by to see my dads, I think. To discuss the emotional change she's undergone and how, I assume, to deal with it."

He nodded. "You know… You're doing a lot for her. You're being a lot nicer than I think most people would if they got picked on by her as much as you have…"

Rachel closed her locker. "I suppose…" She took his hand once more. "My dads raised me to be accepting and I guess having gone through the ridicule and ostracism myself, I wouldn't wish it upon anyone else…" She pursed her lips. "Or, well if we're being honest, I did have a few fantasies in which some of my harsher critics had to undergo the same brutal harassment I suffered…" Her eyes narrowed. "But I'd prefer to think that while I've had those _thoughts_, my actions wouldn't necessarily be the same…"

He nodded. "I get that… Like even though when you're mad and you think of some really mean stuff, if it really happened then you wouldn't actually want to hurt them… It's just that you're really angry when you're thinking it…"

"Exactly," she agreed, smiling.

"It's just…" His jaw ticked as he looked over at her. "Don't like, take this the wrong way, but… I get that you wanna help Santana and I know that she's having a hard time, but… You _deserve _an apology." His brows raised as he stared at her seriously. "Not just from her but from a _lot _of people…"

"Yes," she agreed, plainly.

"Really?" he asked, surprised. "'Cause with all the help you've been giving her, I figured you just like, _forgave_ her…"

She shook her head. "I believe there will always be scars, Sam… I don't think I'll ever _forget _what was said or done to me over the years. And I'm certain I'll never forget what it feels like to be slusheed, but…" She blew out a sigh. "I don't want to live my whole life, or even what's left of my high school career, _hating _people…" She blinked up at him. "I deserve an apology, from a great many students here at McKinley. But I'm not so naïve to believe I'll get one…" She pursed her lips. "Perhaps Santana will be the difference. Maybe when we've gained her friendship and she's no longer hiding behind the mask of indifference and harsh criticism she'll offer to me a sincere apology… But I won't wait on it or rely on it. What matters is that _I_ know that despite whatever they've said or done, I won't let it affect who I am, who I'll become or where I'm going…" She nodded firmly.

He leaned back against the locker next to hers, head cocked in thought.

Rachel's phone buzzed then, drawing her attention. Opening the text message, she shook her head, rolling her eyes. "It's Kurt again…" She chuckled under her breath. "This is the sixth text message he's sent me since I woke up."

He frowned. "What's up? Is he okay?"

"Oh yes…" She nodded emphatically. "He's much safer at Dalton than he was here at McKinley." Her lips quirked. "But like me and Mercedes, he _is _a diva and I'm afraid he doesn't appreciate being lumped in with the other boys of the Warblers. At least while he was here, he was considered one of our finest singers… There, he has to follow rules and regulations and _wait his turn_… As you can imagine, diva's don't have much patience."

He snorted.

"Regardless, what he's texting about it seems is, well, _us_…" She motioned to him and then herself. "I'm not surprised he's been informed of our relationship. I'm sure Mercedes filled him in as much as she could yesterday. I'm a little surprised it's taken him this long to hound me…" She sighed, shrugging. "I imagine I'll have to explain my side of the story before the much more tangled version begins taking effect and I become a boy stealing hussy who engages in sexual activity during school hours."

He quirked a brow, amused by her theatrics. "So, are you gonna tell him the _real _story, or…?"

"Well… I'm not sure." She closed her locker door. "Kurt's a gossip by nature and I think if I told him, he'd tell Mercedes, who would tell Tina, who would tell Mike, who would tell Puck, who would tell Lauren, who I'm sure wouldn't mind telling everybody else because I'm not entirely sure if she likes me or not but I get the feeling she might laugh if I were ever crushed in a stage accident…"

He blinked. "So… We're _not _telling Kurt then?"

She smiled. "No, I don't think so. Perhaps later, maybe Friday, after this has all blown over and we're no longer engaged in a fake relationship."

He frowned, looking away. "Yeah, so… I guess we're officially breaking up tomorrow…" He fiddled with the arms of his backpack.

"Yes, I suppose we are…" Her brows furrowed. "If it's any consolation, if we'd been in a _real _relationship, I'm sure we would have lasted much longer than four days."

He half-grinned at her. "Yeah?"

She nodded. "If Noah and I could date for five days, while both subsequently in love with other people, then I think you and I have a much better chance of it!"

He nodded agreeably before stopping. "Wait, you dated Puck?"

"Oh, yes, it was last year. See, he apologized with a grape slushee, he said the sweetest thing about how he'd seen me lick my lips the last time he threw one at me…" She frowned. "It sounded much better at the time. But anyway, we started dating and, I have to admit, I was completely infatuated with Finn at the time, but Noah was very…" Her eyes narrowed. "Persuasive."

He stared at her.

"Are you okay?" she worried. "You look a little sick."

"Huh? Uh, no, nope, just… Just _surprised_…"

"Yes, I imagine it did surprise a lot of people," she mused. "Especially when he quit football for me."

He choked a little. "H-He _what?_ _Puck _quit football?"

"It's a very long and complicated tale," she sighed. "But that was beside the point. What I was trying to say was that if Noah and I, who appear to be complete opposites in most regards, could maintain a relationship for five days, I'm sure _you _and I, who have bonded over many a thing, would be happy together for much longer."

He stared at her thoughtfully. "How long?"

Her lips parted. "Well…"

"One week? Two?" He smirked. "A month… Six?"

She smiled up at him before reaching over to smooth out an invisible wrinkle along his shirt. "I think any girl who is lucky enough to have you should never let you go, Sam Evans."

His expression softened. "Ditto, Rachel Berry."

She grinned widely but before she could say anymore, a hand suddenly gripped her elbow. "Come on, Diva, you and me need to gossip like _yesterday_," Mercedes said, tugging her away.

Eyes wide, Rachel mouthed back at the boy at her locker, _Help!_

He chuckled, shrugging. "I'll see you at break!"

She clucked her tongue. "Toss me to the lions then, Sam!"

He blew her a kiss before winking cheekily and turning to walk to his locker.

Mercedes dragged her into an empty classroom, crossed her arms over her chest, tapped a foot and raised a brow. "_Spill!_"

Rachel wrung her hands before crossing to take a seat on top of a desk. Despite knowing this moment was coming, she hadn't prepared herself for the inevitable interrogation. "I apologize for not speaking to you sooner… I'm sure that both you and Kurt assume I've been avoiding you." _Which I have been_, she thought. "But honestly, I've just been swept up in this whirlwind romance and I've hardly had time to pause and reflect."

"So reflect now." She quirked her head. "Where did you and Sam even _come _from? 'Cause every direction I been looking has you chasing after Finn, begging for another chance." She shook her head. "Don't get me wrong, 'cause I think it's great that you're moving on from White, Tall and Awkward, but…" She raised a brow. "If this is another scheme you've cooked up or if you're stringing Sam along…" She frowned. "He's had enough heartbreak, Rachel, and let's face it… You've got a way of getting a boy's attention and then leaving him flattened as soon as Finn looks your way."

She frowned. "I'm offended by that statement, Mercedes."

"Really?" she scoffed. "You and Puck had it going on last year before you dumped him 'cause you were still into Finn. And then even after Finn breaks your heart and you start dating Jesse, you still had this back and forth thing with him. And then even when you _get _Finn, you mess around with Puck in December…" She sighed. "Girl, your heart is _fickle_… If _I _can't tell who you want, I don't know how _you _do…"

She clasped her hands in her lap and stared firmly at the girl in front of her. "I've made mistakes in my relationships, I can admit that. But how you see them and how they actually happened is very different…" She stood up, sighing. "I owe _nobody _any more apologies for what happened. I've made my peace with Finn. If he chooses to forgive me for my actions with Noah, that's fine. But what we had… It's over now." She lifted her chin. "It took me some time to realize and accept it, but my feelings for him are not as they were. Some part of me will always love him, but… I'm not _in love _with Finn any more and…" She smiled. "And yes, I do think I owe that to Sam in some way. Because for the first time in my entire life, I feel _accepted _and _appreciated _and he does it just by being himself and not asking any more of me than what I'm willing to give." She swallowed thickly. "What Sam and I have is very special to me, Mercedes. And you don't have to understand it or like it or even _approve_… But I expect him to be apart of my life for a very long time."

Mercedes nodded slowly. "Okay…"

Her brows rose. "Okay?"

She half-smiled, rolling her eyes. "I can't tell you who to date, Rachel… I told you before that I thought you needed some time away from boys and instead you went and found a whiter, blonder version of Finn."

She shook her emphatically. "You don't know him like I do. He may seem similar to Finn, but once you peel back the layers, Sam is very different. Unique and funny and, well, rather geeky."

"I'll take your word for that…" She put her hands to her hips. "Look, I wasn't trying to upset you or make you feel bad or whatever, I just… This thing with you and Sam came out of like, _nowhere_…" Her eyes darted around as she shook her head. "I didn't even know you were friends and then Santana's saying you stole her boy, so…?"

"We started talking at the chastity club meeting. He needed a ride home and Santana didn't show up, so I offered…" She smiled. "During the ride, we spoke, very openly and it was…" She sighed. "It was one of the most honest and endearing conversations I'd ever had. I suppose… I think a spark was lit." She shrugged. "The next morning, we were speaking here at school when Santana misinterpreted some of Sam's actions… She decided to confront him and she made him choose and… I was surprised as anyone when he decided to pick me…" Her gaze fell in remembrance. "After that, well, we decided to see if what we were feeling would translate well into a relationship and… It has."

"Yeah," she snorted, amused. "I heard about the showers…"

She rolled her eyes. "We'd been slusheed, badly. So yes, we showered, but _separately_." She stared at her seriously. "Again, what the student body chose to believe and what truly happened are very different events."

"You really like him, don't you?" she said, tone softer now.

"Yes," she agreed, nodding. "He's…" Her brows furrowed. "He's unlike anyone I've ever known, in the very best way."

She smiled. "I'm happy for you."

"Really?" she asked, worried and a little surprised.

She chuckled, reaching over and swinging an arm around her. "Look, I know we don't hang out much. Things have been crazy lately, especially with Regionals next week, but… You _are _my friend, Rachel, and I just want you to be happy. So if Bieber does it for you…?" She grinned. "I'm cool with that."

Rachel beamed at her. "Good… Because I'm afraid I wouldn't have given it up even if you'd said otherwise."

Mercedes laughed. "There's my diva."

As the warning bell rang and they pulled apart, Rachel looked over. "Just one more thing… Do you think you could let Kurt in on everything?" She shrugged her shoulders high. "I'd rather not explain it all a second time and he's been texting me all morning."

She chuckled. "No worries. I'll fill him in."

"Thank you," she said, sighing in relief.

They stepped out of the classroom, waving goodbye before turning in opposite directions for class. Despite her earlier concerns about how to explain everything to Mercedes and Kurt, she was feeling good. Because technically, she hadn't lied. Not about much anyway. Her feelings for Sam and their friendship were all honest. Aside from telling Mercedes that they'd decided to give a real relationship a try, everything else had been true. And she chose not to read too deeply into her own words expressing it, because a part of her was sure she'd said more than she ever knew she felt.

…

Sam spent most of the morning distracted. He was pretty sure he failed his math quiz, even though he'd been doing better lately. He just couldn't get the idea that Rachel dated _Puck _out of his head. He knew they hooked up, 'cause gossip traveled pretty quick and Quinn mentioned it to him. But he didn't know they _dated_… And now maybe Puck's warning not to hurt her made a little more sense. And that whole not touching her boobs comment. Sam just figured he expected all girls to let him get a feel eventually; it _sounded _like Puck. But he knew that Finn hadn't been getting far with Rachel, dudes talk, and with him dating Quinn, newly born chastity queen, they were both pretty frustrated. It was what led to the whole Coach Beiste thing… So it made sense that even when she was with Puck, he didn't get far. It was the fact that she was with Puck _at all _that threw him off.

He wasn't jealous. 'Cause friends didn't get jealous of dudes their fake girlfriends used to date. And he wasn't worried either. 'Cause Puck had Lauren and didn't want Rachel. Even if he did, Sam wouldn't care, 'cause they were _fake _dating… Until tomorrow. Tomorrow they were fake breaking up. And why did he really _not _want to do that? He sighed, scribbling on the paper in front of him, ignoring the teacher. Slowly, his scribbles turned into something more. Something familiar. With big brown eyes and a full smile and a slightly larger nose than what was maybe acceptable. And her hair, long and dark and full of bouncing curls. And a sweater, with animals on it. A skirt, short. Long legs. Like, _super _long legs. And a microphone, 'cause what Rachel Berry sketch was complete without singing?

And then there was this space next to her, all wide and open, and… and one of her hands was empty. So he started drawing; first a hand, attached to hers, holding on tight, their fingers twined, and then an arm and a torso. Open-collared shirt, blue. Jeans. Sneakers. And then the head; triangular jaw, full cheeks (flushed), long, stretched lips, green eyes, and a lot of hair, blond. And in his free hand, he drew a comic book. 'Cause the Sam that was with Rachel was the _real _Sam; the geeky dude behind the Letterman's jacket.

When the bell rang, he was still confused. 'Cause he shouldn't care about who she dated before him. Not when they weren't even really dating. Only part of him really wanted to be sure that Puck wasn't into her. He just wasn't sure he was ready to admit _why_…

…

By lunch time, Sam was in a bad mood. They sat down to eat at table, his foot hooked around her ankle and he hadn't noticed he'd done that until after, but since she wasn't kicking his foot away and it just felt natural, he went with it. She put all of her food out in front of her, carefully, while he just dumped his brown paper bag over and looked through what his gram put together. Wrinkling his nose, he traded his carrots for her grapes. She smiled at him, rolling her eyes a little.

Mercedes sat down across from them, Tina in a tow.

"What's up, Biebs and Babs?" she greeted, putting her tray down.

He pursed his lips. "Am I ever gonna live that down?"

She grinned at him, brow raised. "What do _you _think?"

Rachel patted his hand consolingly.

Picking the crusts off his sandwich, Sam cocked a brow at Tina. "Where's Mike?"

She turned her head toward another table where he was sitting with Puck and Lauren, the two boys had their heads together while Lauren was stealing all of Puck's high-sugar junk food. With a roll of her eyes, Tina sighed, "He wanted me to tell you he's a ninja and he can kill a man with just his fingers… I told him he _wasn't _a ninja and to stop encouraging Asian stereotypes." She opened a bag of chips, shrugging. "We're not talking until he stops trying to teach Puck how to use his nunchucks…"

He snorted, biting his lip.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Tina," Rachel said, glancing away, brow furrowed. "Why in the world does Noah have nunchucks?"

"They're badass," Mercedes scoffed mockingly.

"Wait, I don't understand." Rachel frowned. "Why would Mike want Sam to know that?"

"Hm?" Tina looked up from the pop she was sucking through a bendy straw. "Yeah, I guess him and Puck think Sam's going to break your heart or something…" She waved a hand dismissively. "They have walk-talkies and everything…"

Her brows furrowed. "I'm not sure if I should be flattered or appalled…" Her lips pursed. "I'll go with appalled." She pushed back from the table, detangling their feet.

"Where're you going?" Sam asked, looking up surprised.

"To chastise them for their behavior, tell them to stop, and possibly confiscate some nunchucks," she said simply.

He grabbed her hand and tugged her back before she could go marching off. "Wait…"

She frowned at him. "Sam… What they're doing, while it seems noble and even sweet, is disrespectful. They can't expect to be allowed to follow us around, possibly waiting for you to make a mistake, so they can jump out of the shadows and tell you that either you're not good enough or they don't approve for some reason…" She shook her head. "And I don't need them to make any of my relationship decisions."

"Yeah, I know," he said, nodding. "But they're doing it because they care about you… It's kind of stupid—"

"_Really _stupid," Tina interceded.

"But they just wanna make sure I don't hurt you. So…" He shrugged, drawing her back to her seat. "Let them do what they're doing and they'll see it for themselves…" He grinned at her. "I don't plan on breaking you heart… And if it means facing Puck and Mike and their nunchucks, I think I can take them…" He grinned boyishly. "Especially if Tina's right and they don't know how to use them."

"They _don't_," she said.

Rachel chewed her lip. "Fine… But if you're somehow injured by them and their amateur nunchuck wielding, I'll kindly remind you of this moment."

He laughed. "Noted." He held up a carrot. "Eat?"

She rolled her eyes, taking it from him and sitting back down. This time, she hooked her foot around his and he grinned, oddly proud of that.

Mercedes leaned over to Tina and stage-whispered, "Did Bieber just talk our girl off the soapbox?"

"Twilight Zone," she said, nodding.

Sam grinned. "I've got hidden skills."

"He can speak two languages…" Rachel boasted, smiling over at him.

"Not sure Na'vi counts, Rach," he muttered, flushing.

"Well it does in my books," she said, lifting her chin determinedly.

He rolled his eyes affectionately.

Tina shook her head. "They're growing on me," she sighed. "Even if Asian Love is better."

"Ninja Love!" Mike cheered, running by and kissing her cheek before running off.

She sighed after him.

Mercedes scoffed. "Looks like he's just been forgiven."

Tina stared after her boyfriend with a slight pout. "Not until he takes his shirt off, then we're even."

Sam's brows furrowed. "_How?_"

She quirked a brow at him. "It's just how we _work_, Avatar."

He held his hands up in surrender but lunch was much easier when the other two girls at the table actually _supported _him and Rachel. He wondered how accepting they'd be when they broke up tomorrow. He blamed the twisting in his stomach on his ham sandwich; he'd tell his gram later that the meat had to be bad, but she just bought it yesterday.

…

Rachel rubbed her temples; for the first time in a very long time, she was almost looking _forward _to the end of glee.

"I really appreciate your input, Brittney… But I'm not sure how well received we'll be if we slushee the crowd… _Perhaps_, if instead of icy cold corn syrup, the cups were filled with something _else_… That didn't stain, sting or humiliate…"

The blonde girl blinked at her. "Like glitter…? I _love _glitter." She bounced a little, looking over at Artie with a smile. "Throw some glitter. Make it rain." Under her breath, she whispered, "Kesha's psychic too."

Rachel sighed, looking away. "If we could discuss the dance routine one more time…"

Santana groaned. "Listen, slave-driver, we've been at it for _hours_…" She turned and cocked a brow at Sam. "Muzzle your girlfriend."

He glared at her. "The dancing is stiff… We've only got six days."

"Thank you," Rachel said, smiling back at him.

He grinned at her.

She looked around at the crowd, motioning for them to stand. "So maybe we could do it one more time, find out our trouble spots, and then take it from the top."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "_Or_, we could let Mike and Brittney figure out the dance routine and we can just take the lyrics home and memorize them… I think we're _done_ for one night." She stood, grabbing up her bag. "If I have to sing this song one more time, my ears will start bleeding." Turning on her heel, she moved toward the door.

Rachel frowned after her. "Well, _wait_, we still have to discuss original song ideas. If anybody else has written anything—"

"It's only been a _day_," Mercedes reminded. "How long did it take for you to write Loser Like Me?"

"Well…" She chewed her lip. "It did take me a number of tries and I'm not even sure it would have been finished by now without Sam's help…"

"I can't feel my legs," Mike muttered from his upside down position on the steps where the chairs sat. "Tina… Would you still love me if I couldn't dance?"

She smiled, bending down next to him. "Yours abs don't come from dancing, right?"

His brows furrowed, confused. "Nah, I work out."

She nodded. "Then I'd still love you."

He frowned at her, eyes narrowed.

She laughed, leaning over to nuzzle their noses. "Kidding."

"Ugh, I just threw up a little," Santana muttered.

"Guys, I think we're gonna have to call it a night," Mr. Shue called out. As everybody started packing up, except for a disappointed Rachel, he reminded, "Please try and work on your songs tonight. Even a _rough _draft will do..."

"I really think we should discuss the dance work before we leave," Rachel argued.

Sam wrapped an arm around her. "Tomorrow," he suggested. "Besides, we've got plans for bowling, remember?"

She pursed her lips. "Is it wrong to be so dedicated?"

He ruffled her hair a little. "We're in high school, Rach…"

She wrinkled her nose. "I'm not sure that's a valid argument, Sam."

Chuckling, he grabbed her trolley bag and walked her to the door. "Okay… So we're all just tired and stressed and everybody needs some time to relax or we'll screw up Regionals because we want it too much."

Her brows furrowed. "I do have issues with wanting things too much…"

"So…" He wiggled his brows at her. "Bowling?"

She smiled. "Yes."

"Awesome." He fist-pumped.

Rolling her eyes, she took his hand and squeezed. "I'm sorry if I was being pushy… I just want this so badly…" She sighed. "I want this club to get the recognition it deserves."

He nodded. "I know."

She frowned up at him. "Do you think I push them too much?"

"Sometimes…" He shrugged. "But Coach Beiste pushes us in practice 'cause she knows we can do better. And my gram always pushed me in school 'cause she knew I wasn't dumb, I just had to work harder." He hugged her close to his side. "I think you expect a lot from us because you know we're awesome and we can be better… Doesn't mean we'll always _like _it."

Brows furrowed, she stared up at him. "You make a very good point."

He grinned before doing one of his impressions, saying, "Much to learn, you still have."

She bit her lip. "I feel like I'm supposed to know where that comes from…"

"Yoda?"

She shook her head, still unsure.

He sighed dramatically. "Forget Rango, me and you are watching the Star Wars series…"

She brightened. "Wasn't Mark Hamill in those?" She nodded happily. "He received a Drama Desk Award nomination for his work in the Broadway play The Elephant Man. It was later made into a film that also starred Tony Award winning actress Anne Bancroft."

He stared at her blankly. "Did The Elephant Man have light sabers?"

She frowned. "Of course not."

He nodded. "Star Wars wins."

She clucked her tongue, amused. "Well I suppose I'll have to make that deduction when we watch them, won't I?"

He grinned, bouncing a little next to her. "You'll love them. They're _epic!_"

Smiling at his enthusiasm, she decided even if she _didn't _enjoy them, she'd try her best not to criticize them too much as it was obvious that he cared very much for the series. As proven by the forty-five minutes he spent telling her everything she might need to know about the movies while they put away their things in their locker and drove across town to the bowling alley. By the time they walked inside, she wasn't sure she even _needed_ to watch the movies as she was fairly sure she knew every important plot point available.

"I'm sorry," he suddenly breathed out, flushed. "I've been talking Star Wars for like an hour. You can tell me to shut up."

She lifted a shoulder. "I think if it's something that's really important to you then I should support it. Although, it is hard to relate to seeing as I haven't yet watched it."

"This weekend," he decided, nodding. "And I'll stop talking about it until then." He motioned like he was zipping up his lips.

She chuckled.

He squeezed her hand. "I haven't been bowling in awhile…" His brows furrowed. "It's loud in here."

"I'm afraid I don't have much of a bowling history myself. The first time I went was with Finn; he taught me how."

"First time like _ever?_" He stared, wide-eyed. "My mom used to take me when I was a kid."

"That's nice." They stopped at the desk to pay, collecting their shoes.

"Yeah…" He frowned. "Except the bowling alley was like, connected to this bar… So I spent a lot of time bowling by myself while mom was drinking in the other room…" He winced. "Drunk bowling is… hard… And embarrassing."

Rachel stared up at him, feeling awful. She reached out to rub his arms comfortingly. Sometimes, he told her these things about his mom and there was a part of her that was so… _relieved _that her own dads were nothing like that. But a whole other part just wished Sam never had to endure it. "I'm so sorry, Sam…"

He shrugged, half-smiling. "It's whatever… Let's just… Make some new memories, right?"

She beamed happily, even though her heart was still a little broken for him. "Better ones!" she encouraged.

He grinned, nodding.

Just as they were about to cross to the lanes, they heard a voice calling out to them and turned, brows furrowed in confusion.

Hip cocked, they asked a little nervously, "You, uh… Got room for one more?"

Rachel glanced up at a skeptical Sam, who shrugged back at her.

"We'd be glad to have you, Santana."

Bouncing a little on the balls of her feet, Rachel was sure that their night just got a whole lot more interesting.

[**Next**: Chapter X.]


End file.
